VAN  ZANTEN'S 
HAPPY  DAYS 


THE 
BORZOI  POCKET  BOOKS 

A    POPULAR    EDITION    OF    SOME    OF 
THE  BEST  BOOKS  OF  OUR  OWN  AND 

OTHER  AGES. 

THE    TITLE    PAGE     HAS    BEEN    DE- 
SIGNED BY  ELMER  ADLER. 


NEW  YORK:  ALFRED  •  A  •  KNOPF 


VAN  ZANTEN'S 
HAPPY  DAYS 

A  LOVE  STORY  FROM  PELLI  ISLAND 

TRANSLATED    FROM     THE    DANISH 

OF  LAURIDS  BRUUN 
BY  DAVID  PRITCHARD 


ALFRED -A- KNOPF 


COPYRIGHT,  1922,  BY 
ALFRED  A.  KNOPF,  INC. 

Pocket  Book  Edition,  Published  December,  1997 


[Original  Title:   Van  Zantens  Lykkelige  Tid] 


KANTJTACTCHED      IK      THE      UNITED      STATES      OF      AldBICA 


VAN  ZANTEN'S 
HAPPY  DAYS 


2021324 


INTRODUCTION 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS:    A 
Love  Story  from  the  Pelli  Islands,  is 
the  English  translation  of  the  title  of  a 
book,  written  by  the  Dutchman,  PIETER  ADRIAAN 
VAN  ZANTEN,  who  was  born  in  Amsterdam  on 
3rd  January   1846,  and  died  in  Paris  on   15th 
November  1904,  of  inflammation  of  the  lungs, 
at  an  hotel  meuble,  situated  in  Rue  de  Pension 
behind    Luxemburg    Hospital,    Rue    Dame-des- 
Champs. 

The  MS.  is  written  partly  in  Dutch  and 
partly  (from  Chapter  X.  onwards)  in  English, 
and,  according  to  a  diary  also  extant,  these 
two  sections  correspond  to  two  different  periods 
of  time  separated  by  at  least  ten  years. 
Furthermore,  it  is  probable  that  the  last  chapter 
was  written  to  complete  the  story,  at  a  time 
when  the  author  meditated  publishing  the 
manuscript  in  book  form — a  plan  which,  for 
7 


8        VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

some  unknown  reason,  he  subsequently  aban- 
doned. 

The  present  story  is  the  only  one  of  the  MSS. 
left  us  by  Van  Zanten,  mentioned  in  his  diary  as 
intended  for  publication  during  the  author's  life- 
time, and  as  the  story  appears  to  have  been  com- 
pleted and  given  a  title  with  that  purpose  in  view, 
I  have  selected  it  as  the  most  suitable  for  inaugu- 
rating the  series. 

In  the  following  pages  of  the  introduction  I 
shall  explain — utilizing  information  obtained 
both  from  Van  Zanten  personally  and  from  the 
diary  he  left  behind — who  Van  Zanten  was; 
and  how  it  occurred  that  I,  a  Danish  author, 
come  to  introduce  him  into  the  realms  of  liter- 
ature. 

In  so  doing  I  wish  it  to  be  understood  that  I 
make  no  attempts  at  literary  portrait-painting — 
that  belongs  elsewhere  and  may  be  published 
later — but  merely  content  myself  with  intro- 
ducing actual  facts  which  may  help  to  throw  a 
light  upon  a  strange  and  remarkable  book,  the 
author  of  which  has  fulfilled  a  strange  and  re- 
markable destiny. 

Van  Zanten' s  father  was  a  prosperous  instru- 
ment merchant  in  Amsterdam,  whose  wife  died 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  9 

so  long  before  that  the  son  could  but  dimly 
recollect  her. 

The  father  spending  most  of  the  day  in  the 
shop,  the  boy's  education  was  left  chiefly  to  the 
housekeeper,  a  strict,  reserved  woman  whom  he 
disliked.  He  generally  shifted  for  himself, 
spending  most  of  his  spare  time  roaming  round 
about  the  harbour. 

When  Adriaan  was  twelve  years  old  his  father 
married  his  housekeeper.  The  boy  took  this 
much  to  heart,  and,  immediately  after  his  con- 
firmation, was  sent,  at  his  own  request,  to  his 
father's  cousin,  who  owned  a  large  factory  at 
Batavia,  there  to  receive  a  business  education. 

Nothing  is  written  in  the  diary  about  his  years 
of  apprenticeship  at  Batavia;  I  remember,  how- 
ever, Van  Zanten  once  telling  me  in  Paris  that 
he  was  left  almost  entirely  to  the  mercy  of  his 
fellow-clerks,  from  whom  he  learnt  first  and 
foremost  to  play  cards  and  drink  whisky;  and 
that  soon  afterwards  he  had  a  violent  attack  of 
malaria,  during  which  he  was  nursed  at  his  half- 
uncle's  house;  and  that  this  experience  caused 
him  to  avoid  whisky  for  many  years  afterwards. 
Furthermore,  he  once  confided  in  me  that  he 
experienced  his  first  serious  disappointment 
during  these  early  years,  through  being  jilted 


10      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

by  a  very  pretty  and  very  experienced  cousin 
(probably  his  chief's  daughter),  with  whom  he 
had  fallen  hopelessly  in  love.  This  affair  is 
obviously  at  the  root  of  his  bitter  antagonism 
to  European  "ladies,"  which  is  constantly  in 
evidence  in  his  works,  and  which  I  remember  so 
well  in  our  conversations.  One  of  his  favourite 
theories  was  that  the  so-called  savage  woman 
was,  both  physically  and  morally,  far  superior  to 
the  civilized  European  woman,  or  at  any  rate  to 
her  representatives  in  colonial  "society." 

Already,  when  quite  young,  Van  Zanten 
showed  an  extraordinary  capacity  for  under- 
standing and  being  understood  by  the  natives. 
He  would  never  admit  that  they  were  inferior  to 
himself,  and,  in  spite  of  many  disappointments 
from  the  city-bred  demoralized  specimens  with 
whom  he  came  mostly  in  contact,  treated  them 
always  as  his  equals. 

For  the  purpose  of  utilizing  this  valuable 
characteristic,  which,  moreover,  tended  to  under- 
mine discipline  in  the  town  and  at  the  head  office, 
he  was  sent  (while  yet  in  his  teens)  as  independent 
buyer  to  the  South  Sea  Islands.  The  firm's  chief 
business  was  in  coffee  and  spices,  and  supplies 
were  preferably  obtained  from  those  small  islands 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      n 

where  the  European  had  not  yet  taught  the  natives 
the  value  of  their  products,  and  so  "contami- 
nated" the  market. 

Van  Zanten,  possessing  as  he  did  his  share  of 
the  inbred  boldness  of  the  Dutchman,  became  in 
these  years  more  intimate  with  the  tropical  island 
nature  than  probably  any  European  before  him. 
He  acquired  an  exact  knowledge  of  the  Micro- 
nesian  and  Polynesian  life  and  thought.  He  has 
repeated  to  me  times  out  of  number  that  the  years 
he  spent  as  the  sole  white  man  among  the  natives, 
especially  among  the  Micronesians  and  in  the 
Caroline  and  Ladrone  Islands,  were  the  happiest 
of  his  life.  Significant  in  this  connection  is  the 
title  of  the  present  book. 

From  the  diary,  which  is  frequently  very  terse 
and  incomplete,  it  is  not  clear  which  islands  he 
visited  or  how  long  he  remained  on  each.  The 
gaps  in  the  diary  are  possibly  due  to  the  ab- 
sence of  writing  materials  in  the  primitive  con- 
ditions which  he  adopted  when  living  alone  among 
the  natives. 

Crowding  the  pages  are  the  names  of  innumer- 
able small  islands,  to  which  from  time  to  time 
he  made  expeditions  from  his  permanent  base 
on  one  of  the  well-known  larger  islands.  It  has 


12      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

been  found  impossible  to  identify  these  islands 
owing  to  the  names  being  apparently  written 
phonetically  from  the  native  pronunciation. 

In  the  diary  he  constantly  assumes  that  the 
locality  is  known ;  the  dating  also  is  in  the  highest 
degree  incomplete,  and  frequently  unintelligible 
to  one  not  acquainted  with  the  language.  Where 
he  had  no  calendar  to  hand  he  contented  himself 
with  reckoning,  after  the  native  fashion,  from  the 
monsoon  and  moon  changes.  He  occasionally 
gives,  with  great  care,  an  unbroken  succession  of 
dates — for  instance :  Monday,  the  3rd ;  Tuesday, 
the  4th ;  and  so  on ;  but  both  the  name  of  the  month 
and  the  number  of  the  year  are  left  to  the  imagi- 
nation. 

He  lived  on  Yap  Island  in  the  Caroline  group 
for  five  years  as  depot  chief,  and  concludes  one  sec- 
tion of  the  diary  with  the  entry  under  January 
1872,  that  he  has  received  commands  to  return  to 
Batavia;  but  that  as  he  does  not  wish  to  do  so,  he 
has  decided  to  send  in  his  resignation  and  receive 
the  pension  due  to  him  after  ten  years'  service. 
He  intends  to  accompany  Tongu  to  the  latter's 
native  island,  which,  he  writes,  is  said  to  be  an 
absolute  Paradise.  That  he  carried  out  this 
plan  is  evident  from  the  present  book,  which  deals 
with  Tongu's  island,  named  by  the  natives  them- 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS       13 

selves  Pelli  Island,  and  incontestably  one  of  the 
Pelew  group,  situated  south-east  of  the  Philip- 
pines, between  the  sixth  and  eighth  parallels  of 
latitude. 

On  this  island,  if  one  may  judge  from  the  nar- 
rative, he  spent  more  than  two  years — a  happy 
time,  which  ended  with  the  catastrophe  related 
in  the  last  chapter,  after  which  he  departed. 
With  Tongu's  and  Toko's  help  he  succeeded  in 
reaching  Yap  Island,  whence  he  took  the  first  boat 
home  to  Batavia.  The  diary  here  relates  that 
he  once  more  entered  the  firm's  service. 

In  the  ensuing  two  years,  spent  quietly  in  Ba- 
tavia, he  must  have  written  the  first,  or  Dutch, 
portion  of  the  story.  He  calls  this  his  "aesthetic 
period,"  during  which  he  settled  down  to  club 
life,  studied  literature,  and  dabbled  in  writing 
with  the  intention  of  becoming  an  author.  For 
unknown  reasons  he  abandoned  this  intention, 
and,  according  to  the  diary,  once  more  went  abroad 
as  the  agent  of  the  firm.  He  acted  as  Depart- 
ment chief  and  buyer  both  on  the  Marshall  and 
Solomon  Islands,  but  in  1880  was  once  more  in 
Java. 

Then  in  1882  he  received  a  letter  from  his 
father  asking  him  to  return  to  Holland.  Old  Van 
Zanten  had  had  an  attack  of  apoplexy,  and,  feel- 


14      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

ing  his  end  draw  nigh,  wished  to  see  his  son  once 
again. 

Van  Zanten  wound  up  his  affairs  and  sailed  for 
Europe,  but  before  he  arrived  his  father  had  died. 
After  sharing  with  the  widow — whom  he  does  not 
appear  to  have  met  personally,  the  diary  mention- 
ing only  letters — there  remained,  when  the  estate 
was  realized,  sufficient  capital  to  enable  him  to 
spend  the  rest  of  his  life  as  a  private  gentleman. 

Having  no  heirs,  he  bought  an  annuity  and  set- 
tled in  London,  where,  until  1892,  he  lived  a  soli- 
tary and  regular  club  life.  During  this  period 
the  English  section  of  the  book  was  written,  and 
it  was  then  that  he  again  entertained  serious 
thoughts  of  embarking  on  authorship.  What 
fresh  consideration  or  experience  caused  him  to 
abandon  the  plan,  the  diary  does  not  relate.  But 
soon  afterwards  he  is  found  in  Paris,  and  now 
begins  a  period  of  restless  travelling,  which,  with 
the  exception  of  an  occasional  quiescent  year  spent 
in  Paris,  London,  or  Naples,  lasted  until  his  death. 

The  first  time  I  met  Van  Zanten  was  at  a 
boarding-house  at  Berne  in  the  winter  of  1895. 
For  three  weeks  we  lived  in  adjacent  rooms  and 
took  our  meals  in  common.  My  first  impression 
of  him  was  not  favourable.  He  was  tall  and  fat, 
with  thick,  light  red  hair  and  beard,  rather  lazy 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS       15 

movements,  and  a  pair  of  large  blue  eyes  which — 
to  use  one  of  his  own  words — had  a  peculiar 
"blank"  expression. 

He  appeared  unemotional  and  blase.  It  a- 
mused  him  to  offend  others  by  expressing  his 
contempt  for  European  civilization  and  for  Euro- 
pean women.  When  one  day  he  discovered  by 
chance  that  I  was  an  author,  he  at  once  became 
interested,  and,  without  at  this  time  hinting  that 
he  also  wrote,  threw  off  his  reserve  and  told  me 
long  and  interesting  accounts  of  his  life  among 
the  South  Sea  Islands. 

Despite  his  half-hundred  years,  he  could,  when 
the  spirit  moved  him,  relate  in  a  most  youthful 
manner,  provided  his  audience  listened  quietly 
without  interrupting  him  with  questions.  Wit- 
tily, boldly,  and  at  the  same  time  feelingly,  he 
talked  of  his  "happy  years,"  as  he  called  them. 
So  vivid  and  realistic  was  his  recollection  that  he 
was  often  compelled  to  call  a  pause  to  fight  down 
his  emotion. 

So  new  and  extravagant  was  much  of  it  to  me 
that,  in  spite  of  my  intense  interest,  I  privately 
condemned  half  of  it  as  travellers'  lies.  But 
when  I  came  to  know  him  better,  I  realized  that 
I  had  wronged  him.  Veracity  and  contempt  for 
all  exaggeration  were  in  reality  fundamental 


16      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

principles  in  his  nature.  Later  on,  in  Paris,  I 
learnt  to  know  him  as  one  of  the  most  upright,  and 
in  the  depths  of  his  nature  most  noble-hearted, 
men  I  have  ever  met,  whether  at  home  or  abroad. 
In  spite  of  the  difference  in  our  ages  we  became 
fast  friends.  When  I  departed  from  Berne  he 
asked  for  my  address,  but  made  no  use  of  it. 

I  did  not  meet  him  again  until,  one  January 
evening  in  1899,  I  saw  him  sitting  outside  the 
Cafe  d'Harcourt  in  the  Boulevard  St.  Michel  in 
the  "Quartier  Latin,"  where  he  was  enjoying  the 
ragging  of  the  students. 

We  stared  for  some  time  at  one  another;  then 
he  lifted  his  glass  and  nodded  to  me,  and  I  has- 
tened over  to  his  table. 

After  that  we  met  each  evening  at  Harcourt's. 
Like  all  lonely  people  it  was  difficult  for  him  to 
stop  talking  once  he  had  begun  to  let  himself  go. 
Many  and  many  an  hour  have  we  walked  along 
the  boulevard  discussing  the  South  Sea  Islands, 
to  which  subject  he  inevitably  returned.  Europe 
made  him  feel  uncomfortable,  he  said.  I  be- 
lieve that  what  prevented  him  ever  actually  yield- 
ing to  his  violent  home-sickness  for  the  islands 
was  the  fear  of  disillusionment  on  seeing  the  re- 
sults of  European  "culture,"  which,  since  his 
happy  days,  had  made  such  enormous  progress, 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS       17 

especially  after  the  Germans  took  a  hand  in  the 
work. 

One  evening  when  I  visited  him  at  his  lonely 
and  sombre  hotel  rooms  in  Rue  Jacob  we  chanced 
to  be  discussing  literature,  and  I  exhorted  him 
earnestly  to  write  an  account  of  his  experiences. 
Then  it  was  that  he  confessed  his  previous  literary 
skirmishes,  mentioning  his  aesthetic  period  at  Ba- 
tavia,  when  he  "did  both  verse  and  prose,"  and 
half  shamefacedly,  half  proudly,  told  about  his 
diary  and  the  manuscripts  which  he  still  had  by 
him. 

I  asked  him  if  I  might  read  some  of  them. 
"Yes,  when  I  am  dead !"  he  replied,  and  changed 
the  subject  abruptly. 

Some  evenings  later,  for  the  first  time,  he  men- 
tioned Ali,  the  central  character  in  the  present 
story.  He  spoke  hesitatingly  and  in  a  subdued 
manner,  as  if  discussing  a  subject  he  would 
rather  in  reality  have  left  untouched.  Before 
I  departed  that  night  I  endeavoured  once  more 
to  persuade  him  to  show  me  some  of  his 
MSS. 

"Ha!  that  would  be  something  for  an  author!" 
said  he  teasingly,  and  began  laughing  heartily. 

"You  shall  have  the  whole  lot  when  I  am 
dead!"  were  his  last  words  on  this  subject — a 


i8      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

remark  which  I  regarded  as  a  joke.  A  few  days 
later  I  returned  home. 

This  time  we  exchanged  a  few  letters,  but  his 
became  more  and  more  brief,  the  last  one  I  re- 
ceived being  from  Naples.  My  reply  to  the  lat- 
ter remained  unanswered. 

In  the  autumn  of  1903,  when  I  was  again  in 
Paris,  I  sought  Van  Zanten,  both  at  our  cafe 
rendezvous  and  at  his  hotel.  But  in  vain;  they 
did  not  even  know  his  address.  Upon  my  inquir- 
ing at  the  Dutch  Consulate,  however,  I  was  in- 
formed that  his  furniture  had  been  left  in  some 
hired  rooms  in  Paris,  while  he  himself  was 
abroad,  probably  in  the  Colonies. 

I  remembered  his  home-sickness,  and  abandoned 
all  hope  of  ever  seeing  him  again.  To  cover  all 
eventualities,  however,  I  left  a  letter  at  the  Con- 
sulate (which  they  promised  to  forward  upon 
ascertaining  his  whereabouts)  in  which  I  informed 
him  of  my  vain  search  and  of  my  longing  to  hear 
from  him  again. 

Whether  this  letter  ever  reached  him,  I  know 
not;  in  any  case,  it  was  never  answered,  and 
the  recollection  of  our  friendship  gradually  faded 
into  the  background. 

Finally,  in  February  last  year,  during  my  stay 
at  Nice,  I  received  a  letter  bearing  the  Dutch  Con- 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      19 

sulate  crest  and  stamped  with  many  postmarks. 
The  letter,  which  had  followed  me  from  place 
to  place,  contained  the  announcement  of  Van 
Zanten's  death,  together  with  a  copy  of  his  will, 
in  which  he  willed  and  bequeathed  to  "Mijnheer 
Laurids  Bruun  van  Denemarken"  a  collection  of 
MSS.  and  diaries,  "and  he  shall  be  the  sole  judge 
of  how  much  of  the  bequest  is  worthy  of  public 
perusal,  as  also  the  time  and  place  of  its  publica- 
tion." 

In  presenting  to  the  world  Van  Zanten's  first 
book,  I  not  only  discharge  a  cherished  personal 
duty,  but  in  addition  believe  that  I  am  enriching 
literature  with  an  interesting  and  remarkable 
work,  which  opens  up  a  new  and  prolific  source 
of  poetical  inspiration. 

It  is  a  melancholy  thought,  how  slight  an  inci- 
dent can  change  a  man's  whole  career.  If  Van 
Zanten  had  followed  his  original  plan  and  pub- 
lished his  book,  it  would  in  all  probability  have 
appeared  in  the  middle  of  the  seventies,  during 
his  aesthetic  Batavian  period — in  other  words,  be- 
fore Kipling,  who  was  born  in  1865,  had  begun  to 
think  of  capturing  the  Indian  mainland  for  litera- 
ture. Now  Kipling  is  world-famous,  and  justly 
-but  Van  Zanten,  whose  book  with  regard  to 


20      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

freshness  of  subject,  originality  of  treatment,  and 
intuitive  power,  so  much  reminds  one  of  Kipling, 
died  in  obscurity,  unknown  to  the  world. 

I  shall  publish  Van  Zanten's  remaining  MSS. 
periodically  in  the  intervals  of  my  own  writings, 
provided  they  prove  suitable  for  production. 

With  regard  to  publication  abroad,  an  effort 
will  be  made  to  bring  out  the  present  book  in  an 
English  and  a  Dutch  edition;  the  remaining  MSS. 
will  probably  also  receive  similar  treatment. 

In  conclusion  I  should  like  to  add  that  in  trans- 
lation I  have  followed  the  original  very  closely, 
and  that  I  have  omitted  deliberately  to  correct 
grammatical  and  literal  faults  common  to  the  be- 
ginner but  here  and  there  I  have  been  compelled 
to  tone  down,  and  sometimes  wholly  delete  words 
and  expressions,  the  extreme  "naturalness"  of 
which,  when  taking  into  consideration  Danish 
ideas,  make  a  direct  translation  difficult.  I  pre- 
sume that  Van  Zanten,  if  he  had  published  the 
book,  would  himself  have  made  similar  excisions 
of  expressions  which  exceed  the  bounds  of  good 
taste. 

Some  readers  will  perhaps  consider  that  even 
now  in  this  connection  I  have  not  been  sufficiently 
strict.  LAURIDS  BRUUN 

COPENHAGEN,  May  1908. 


CHAPTER   ONE 


MY  host  and  I  were  fishing  over  by  the 
reef,  when  we  heard  some  one  shouting 
to  us  from  the  mainland,  where  stood  a 
shivering  old  man  jumping  up  and  down  in  the 
coral  ground,  as  if  he  were  treading  on  hot  bricks. 
I  had  not  the  faintest  idea  who  he  was,  but  the 
moment  Tongu  set  eyes  on  him  he  flung  down  his 
fishing  poles  and  sprang  like  lightning  to  the  oars. 
"Wahuja!"  he  ejaculated,  jerking  his  head  excit- 
edly as  a  sign  that  I  should  hurry,  whereupon  I 
hastily  pulled  in  the  net,  which  had  slipped  off 
its  long  bamboo  pole. 

"It's  'Long  White-Ears,'  "  said  Tongu,1  poking 
me  impatiently  in  the  back  with  the  handle  of  the 
oar.  Then  I  knew.  "Long  White-Ears"  was 
the  King's  chief  man — Prime  Minister,  Chamber- 

1  Tongu  is  an  old  acquaintance.  I  met  him  first  on  Yap 
Island  and  helped  him  return  to  his  native  island.  From 
him  I  learnt  the  language. 

21 


22       VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

lain,  all  in  one.  It  is  the  name  the  boys  shout 
after  him  when  he  leaves  the  shelter  of  the  King's 
House.  His  ears  were  quite  five  inches  long,  and 
covered  with  hair  as  white  as  the  close-cropped 
curls  of  his  head. 

"We  quickly  pulled  the  boat  round,  signalling 
to  Wahuja,  who  had  ceased  hopping,  and  now 
stood  looking  towards  us,  his  hands  resting  on  his 
shivering  knees. 

"It's  the  Tax!"  I  thought,  my  conscience  telling 
me  that  though  I  had  lived  with  Tongu  on  the  is- 
land since  the  previous  monsoon,  I  had  paid  noth- 
ing in  return  to  the  royal  exchequer,  whether  of 
fish,  fowl,  or  fruit. 

As  long  as  I  caught  fish  for  Tongu  and  boarded 
with  him,  he  paid  taxes  for  us  both.  But  of 
course  in  the  long  run  such  an  arrangement  could 
not  hold  good  for  such  an  extraordinary  man  as 
myself. 

"What  does  he  want  with  us?"  I  demanded. 

"The  King!" 

He  said  nothing  more,  but  rowed  with  all  his 
might. 

As  we  approached  the  land  old  Wahuja  began 
hopping  again.  I  made  my  greetings  humbly,  in 
the  native  style,  and  he  received  them  graciously. 
His  hands  were  shaking  with  cold,  and  his  cheeks 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      23 

sucked  incessantly  at  his  toothless  gums.  His 
small,  piercing  eyes  searched  me  from  head  to  foot, 
while  he  delivered  his  official  speech. 

"The  King's  eyes  are  large,"  he  said,  nodding 
thoughtfully  with  his  emaciated  head,  "very 
large !"  Which,  translated  into  European,  meant, 
"The  King  is  very  much  astonished !" 

I  thought  as  much ! 

I  carefully  refrained  from  interrupting  him;  I 
tried  to  fling  into  my  blue  eyes  and  open  face  all 
the  innocence  and  astonishment  I  could  muster. 
My  blameless  expression  merely  irritated  him, 
and  he  continued  ominously:  "The  King's  heart 
is  withered !" 

Tongu  slapped  his  thighs  humbly,  looking  re- 
proachfully at  the  old  man. 

The  King's  heart  being  withered  meant  that 
he  was  displeased. 

I  still  refrained  from  speech. 

"The  King  desires  that  the  Rich  Giver  shall 
come  immediately  and  cure  his  eyes." 

"The  Rich  Giver"  was  a  confounded  nickname 
given  me  soon  after  my  arrival,  because  of  my 
guns  and  my  well-filled  sea-chest.  The  name  has 
stuck,  and  I  know  only  too  well  what  it  means 
when  it  is  used. 

"Very  well !"  I  answere'd. 


24      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

It  was  already  past  ten  o'clock,  and  the  morning 
sun  shone  mercilessly  down  on  the  hard,  bumpy, 
coral  rock  on  which  we  were  standing. 

I  led  the  way  up  to  Tongu's  house. 

Tongu  solemnly  stooped  down  and  let  Wahuja 
climb  on  his  back.  The  tender-footed  old  skele- 
ton was  thus  carried  in  comfort  over  the  coral 
strand,  and  deposited  safely  on  the  soft,  fine  sand 
farther  inland. 

When  we  reached  the  house,  the  old  man  re- 
fused to  enter,  Tongu  being  so  much  his  inferior. 
We  left  him  sitting  under  a  cocoa-nut  palm,  where 
he  stretched  out  his  legs  and  leaned  back  at  his 
ease  against  the  stem.  I  went  inside  to  fetch  a 
gift  for  the  visitor. 

"I  am  a  weak  old  man !"  whined  the  minister, 
wiping  his  mouth  suggestively  with  the  back  of 
his  hand. 

"Stay  here  for  a  while !"  invited  Tongu  ingrati- 
atingly. 

"I  am  a  weak  old  man !"  quavered  the  old  fel- 
low again,  painfully  extending  his  swollen  blue- 
black  toes. 

At  last  I  understood.  I  fetched  my  Java  rum, 
the  fame  of  which  had  evidently  reached  the 
Court,  and  poured  him  out  a  drink. 

The  old  man  emptied  the  glass  eagerly,  but,  be- 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      25 

fore  swallowing,  let  the  spirit  run  round  his  mouth 
several  times  and  gargled  his  throat.  Then  he 
licked  the  glass  carefully  both  inside  and  out,  at 
the  same  time  squinting  towards  the  bottle,  which 
I  thrust  hastily  in  my  pocket. 

Tongu  and  I  were  ransacking  the  sea-chest, 
looking  for  a  suitable  present,  when  the  light  from 
the  low  doorway  became  suddenly  obscured.  The 
old  man's  pride  was  not  proof  against  his  greed ! 

"I  am  a  poor  man,"  he  whined,  stretching  out 
his  hand.  At  that  moment  he  saw  one  of  the  big, 
speckled  bugs  in  a  crevice  in  the  bamboo  wall. 
In  a  flash  he  grabbed  it  between  his  forefinger  and 
thumb,  put  it  deliberately  in  his  mouth  and  swal- 
lowed it.  Wahuja  was  the  richest  man  on  the 
island.  Rumour  had  it  that  he  had  amassed  a 
large  Tabu 1  through  extorting  bribes  from 
those  anxious  to  keep  in  the  good  graces  of  the 
King. 

I  found  a  pocket  pencil  with  a  silver  top  which 
I  gave  him.  He  bit  it,  smelt  it,  and  finally  stuck 
it  in  his  hair  with  a  deep  sigh.  Apparently  he 
was  not  satisfied,  but  his  face  annoyed  me  so  much 
that  I  took  no  notice. 

I  decided  on  a  red  silk  scarf  from  my  Batavian 
period  for  the  Queen;  and  for  the  King,  an  old 

1  See  note,  p.  135. 


26      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

pair  of  opera-glasses,  given  me  by  my  chief's  wife 
for  Christmas  at  home  in  Java. 

Along  the  road — which  stretches  from  the  shore 
to  the  King's  House,  and  is  paved  with  large  flat 
stones — we  tramped  off  together.  I  saw  Talao's 
boys,  who  at  that  time  were  not  quite  old  enough 
for  the  Common  House,1  hiding  behind  a  bamboo 
fence. 

"Long  White  Ears!"  shouted  one,  ducking 
down  out  of  sight.  The  old  man  pretended  not 
to  hear;  but  Tongu  threw  a  stone  in  their  direc- 
tion, hitting  the  fence  with  a  resounding  blow 
which  raised  the  white  dust.  The  boys  jeered 
mockingly  from  a  safe  distance. 

When  we  came  to  the  place  where  the  road 
curves  towards  the  King's  House,  we  saw  a  row  of 
inquisitive  female  heads  peering  out  from  the 
room  behind  the  verandah.  They  disappeared  as 
soon  as  they  found  themselves  discovered. 

We  crawled  up  an  inclined  plank,  and,  headed 
by  Wahuja,  crept  through  the  narrow  space  be- 
tween the  floor  and  the  low-hanging  roof  of  palm 
leaves. 

In  the  centre  of  the  room,  seated  on  a  decorated 
pisang  mat,  was  the  King.  There  were  only 

1  See  pp.  88ff. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      27 

three  walls  to  the  room — two  side  walls,  each 
pierced  by  a  window,  and,  facing  the  verandah,  a 
thin  bamboo  partition  in  which  was  a  wide  door- 
opening. 

Behind  the  King,  a  little  to  the  left,  sat  the 
Queen,  on  a  separate  mat. 

Wahuja  bumped  down  on  his  stiff  knees  before 
the  King,  and  whispered  something  we  could  not 
hear.  He  then  beckoned  me  forward.  I  ad- 
vanced, leaving  Tongu  standing  alone  at  the  en- 
trance. Wahuja  tiptoed  to  his  mat,  situated  on 
the  Queen's  right.  The  King's  Court,  or  body- 
guard, was  seated  before  the  bamboo  partition, 
with  their  spears  and  clubs  resting  against  the 
wall.  The  ladies  of  the  Court — the  Kings 
other  wives — (together  with  the  children)  were 
clustered  inquisitively  behind  the  door-opening 
muttering  to  one  another  in  subdued  tones.  The 
King  was  a  fat,  middle-aged  fellow  with  a 
stomach  so  shining  and  distended  that  it  over- 
lapped his  tapa.1  The  hair  of  his  head  was 
brushed  straight  up  and  held  in  position  by  a 
comb,  apparently  of  tortoise-shell.  Around  his 
arms  were  rows  of  dazzling-white  human  knuckle 
bones.  He  rose  to  his  feet  with  difficulty  and 
shook  hands  in  the  European  manner. 

1  Loincloth. 


28      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

"Shanku,  Sar!"  *  said  he,  showing  his  white 
teeth  in  a  smile. 

This  was  the  only  English  he  knew;  he  was 
very  proud  of  it,  and  used  it  on  all  official 
occasions.  I  greeted  him  in  the  native  fashion, 
and,  crouching  on  all-fours,  wished  him  a  long 
life  and  many  sons. 

This  pleased  him;  he  gave  me  a  playful  shove, 
making  signs  that  I  was  to  sit  at  his  side.  I  was, 
then,  in  favour  after  all ;  it  was  all  rubbish  about 
the  King's  heart  withering.  Wahuja  had  exag- 
gerated in  order  to  frighten  me,  and  so  earn  a 
drink. 

The  King  had  large  eyes,  greedy  and  melan- 
choly; they  devoured  me  inch  by  inch,  just  as 
Wahuja's  had  done. 

The  Queen  was  more  aristocratic  than  her 
consort.  She  had  red  flowers  in  her  hair,  and 
in  both  ears,  and  round  her  neck  two  rows  of 
pearls,  at  which  she  constantly  glanced  down ;  she 
had,  also,  pearls  round  her  wrists.  She  was 
tatooed  black  and  green  in  two  parallel  zigzag 
lines,  beginning  at  her  neck  and  continuing  down- 
wards over  her  breasts,  which  were  scarcely  larger 
than  the  King's.  On  each  breast,  with  the  nipplr 
as  a  centre,  a  flaming  sun  had  been  tattooed 

1  Thank  you,  sir. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS   29 

She  sat  motionless,  her  open  palms  resting  on 
the  mat,  and  stared  fixedly  at  me  from  under  her 
indolent  eyelids.  But  when  my  eyes  met  hers 
she  turned  her  head  aside,  and  made  a  noise  like 
a  cat  being  stroked  the  wrong  way. 

The  greatest  ceremony  was  observed.  With 
his  own  hands  the  King  chose  from  his  arm- 
basket  1  the  finest  betel-nut,  himself  cracked  the 
white  shell,  cut  the  kernel  in  two  with  his  ax  of 
state,  2  sprinkled  powdered  lime  on  it  from  a  per- 
forated pumpkin,  found  an  extra  juicy  pepper 
leaf  to  wrap  round  it,  and  then  handed  me  the 
tasty  morsel. 

It  was  an  absolutely  first-class  quid  of  betel. 
I  had  never  in  my  life  tasted  a  better,  not  even 
on  Yap  Island,  where  they  are  renowned  for  their 
betel.  The  King  then  made  a  quid  for  himself, 
and  we  sat  chewing  for  a  while  in  solemn  silence, 
at  intervals  spitting  the  red  juice  far  out  across 
the  bamboo  floor.  We  chatted  about  the  weather, 
and  the  fishing  prospects  in  connection  with  the 

1  All  the  natives  carry  a  basket  which  hangs  on  the  arm. 
and  serves  the  purpose  of  a  pocket.     In  it  are  placed  betel 
nuts  or  anything  else  one  puts  in  a  pocket. 

2  The  King  carries  over  his  left  shoulder  as  a  mark  of  his 
dignity  a  small  white  ax  with  a  handle  made  of  wood,  and 
head  formed  of  the  closed  double  shell   of  a  giant  mussel. 
All  the  natives  carry  such  an  ax,  but  the  King's  is  smaller 
and  of  better  workmanship. 


30      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

change  of  monsoons.  The  King  made  a  delicate 
allusion  to  the  fact  of  his  being  aware  that 
Tongu  had  the  best  fishing  rights  in  the  district. 
They  so  seldom  had  fish  to  eat  at  Court ;  the  taxes 
were  paid  for  the  most  part  in  fruit  and  game, 
with  an  occasional  suckling-pig. 

I  promised  to  send  him  a  whole  basketful  of 
fish,  and  assured  him  that  I  had  not  paid  my  taxes 
before,  because  of  my  desire  to  find  something  out 
of  the  ordinary — something  that  would  both  make 
the  King's  eyes  big  and  enlarge  his  heart. 

This  speech  delighted  him.  He  showed  his 
teeth,1  and  as  I  noticed  his  melancholy  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  bulge  in  my  coat  made  by  my  flask  and 
opera-glasses,  I  seized  the  opportunity  to  present 
my  gifts.  When  the  Court  saw  the  flask,  a  chorus 
of  grunts  and  rustlings  and  mutterings  broke  out 
along  the  whole  wall.  The  women  and  children 
also  expressed  their  joy  on  the  King's  behalf. 

He  immediately  took  a  long  drink,  and  then, 
out  of  politeness,  offered  me  the  flask,  but  snatched 
it  back  again  before  I  had  time  to  refuse. 

The  opera-glasses  did  not  interest  him  very 
much — they  were  only  for  the  eyes.  The  Queen 
smacked  her  fat  thighs  together  in  delight  when 

1  The  native  expression  for  a  smile. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      31 

she  received  the  silk  scarf.  She,  however,  re- 
covered her  dignity  immediately. 

She  tried  it  first  round  her  neck,  then  over  her 
breasts,  afterwards  as  a  skirt,  and  finally  round 
her  arms.  Each  time  she  looked  round  towards 
the  women  in  the  background,  who  applauded  so 
vociferously  that  the  King  was  constrained  to 
turn  and  shout:  "Shut  up!" 

Among  them  was  a  pretty  girl  of  twelve,  not 
quite  old  enough  for  the  Common  House,  who  sat 
in  the  doorway  staring  with  big  shining  eyes, 
captivated  by  my  grandeur.  I  could  not  resist 
nodding  to  her  in  the  European  manner,  at  which 
she  nodded  back,  smiling  over  the  whole  of  her 
sweet  innocent  face. 

Then  came  an  elderly  woman — presumably  her 
mother — who  took  her  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck, 
threw  her  to  one  side,  and  sat  down  in  her  place, 
nodding  and  smiling  vigorously  at  me.  It  was 
a  poor  exchange! 

The  King  stood  up.  The  rum  was  beginning 
to  take  effect.  He  kicked  me  hard  on  the  shin, 
a  mark  of  honour  among  the  natives,  and  invited 
me  to  dinner. 

Everybody  now  disappeared  except  the  Crown 
Prince — a  supple  seventeen-year-old  youth  with 


32      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

a  straight  back  and  shifty  eyes — and  Wahuja, 
who  continued  following  close  behind,  listening 
attentively  with  his  long  ears. 

The  King  showed  me  the  verandah  and  his 
unique  cocoa-nut  palms.  Some  of  them  were 
higher  than  a  four-storied  house.  At  a  sign  from 
his  father  the  Crown  Prince  swarmed  up  one  of 
them  and  knocked  down  a  couple  of  fresh  nuts. 
In  a  trice  he  was  down  again,  and  had  cut  a  tri- 
angular hole  in  one  of  them,  after  which  the  King 
and  I  drank  from  the  same  nut,  a  very  great 
honour. 

Then  we  returned  to  the  room,  where  we  in- 
spected the  treasures.  One  was  a  rusty  ship's 
cannon,  which  the  King  allowed  me  to  attempt 
to  lift.  Another  was  an  enema  syringe,  which 
was  suspended  on  the  wall  by  a  piece  of  bass. 
The  King  showed  me  how  well  it  squirted,  and 
washed  down  one  of  the  wall-bugs  with  it.  In 
the  middle  of  the  wall  was  hung  a  picture  of  the 
Madonna,  a  coloured  print  torn  from  a  monthly 
magazine.  He  informed  me  that  it  was  "Sha 
Quivin"  (the  Queen),  the  great  Queen  of  the 
whites — with  her  little  son ! 

The  dinner  was  excellent. 

We  had  bread-fruit  boiled  together  with  yams,1 

1  A  root  tasting  like  potatoes. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      33 

palm-cabbage  of  young  cocoa-nut  buds,  which 
though  rather  coarse  was  otherwise  very  fresh  and 
tasty.  We  had  pigeons,  roasted  whole,  entrails 
and  all,  and  flying-fish  backs  garnished  with 
pisang  sap  kneaded  into  balls.  Flying-fish  resem- 
bles, but  is  superior  to,  mackerel  in  taste.  We 
drank  freely  of  toddy,1  and  the  King  took  an  oc- 
casional pull  at  the  rum  flask. 

Everything  was  served  tastefully  and  cleanly 
on  young  pisang  leaves.  Eating  with  the  fingers 
is  more  agreeable  than  with  knife  and  fork,  once 
one  has  acquired  the  habit. 

For  dessert  we  had  taffa — a  thick  pudding  of 
squashed  bananas  and  cocoa-nut  sap.  While  we 
were  eating,  both  the  King  and  I  had  behind  us  a 
young  girl  with  a  leaf  fan  which  never  ceased 
moving.  Even  when  His  Majesty  went  outside 
between  two  of  the  courses  the  girl  followed  him 
with  the  fan. 

We  enjoyed  the  food  immensely.  At  the  end 
the  King  was  so  pleased  that  he  stretched  himself 
full  length  on  the  mat,  and  told  me  to  choose 
whatever  I  liked  as  a  return  gift. 

1  Toddy  is  a  sweet  palm  wine  procured  by  cutting  up  young 
cocoa-nut  stems.  The  sap  ferments  after  a  time,  forming  the 
wine. 


34      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

I  thought  immediately  of  the  girl,  but  dared 
not  ask  for  her;  perhaps  she  was  one  of  his  favour- 
ite children.  Whilst  I  sat  thinking,  the  Court 
returned,  having  eaten  the  remains  of  the  feast, 
which  is  allotted  them.  Among  them  was  a 
young,  broad-shouldered  fellow  whose  face  I  had 
noticed  before  on  account  of  his  warm,  faithful 
eyes,  resembling  those  of  a  dog. 

I  asked  the  King  to  give  him  to  me.  He 
raised  himself  on  his  elbow  and  looked  round,  then 
he  beckoned  the  man  forward.  The  fellow  leaped 
into  the  air  with  joy  and  flung  himself  face  down- 
wards before  me.  They  probably  believed  that 
I  had  rum  in  unlimited  quantities  at  home  in  the 
chest.  All  the  others  looked  sulkily  and  jealously 
at  him. 

Then  the  King  evidently  wished  to  sleep.  Wa- 
huja  stole  to  my  side  and  hinted  that  I  had  better 
take  my  leave.  He  whispered  something  to  the 
King,  who  again  got  up  hurriedly.  While  I 
thanked  him  and  made  my  adieux  in  the  native 
manner,  he  managed  to  recover  a  little  of  his  royal 
dignity,  and  hiccoughed  in  a  half-threatening 
voice  something  about  my  not  forgetting  the  tax. 

I  went  out,  and  found  Tongu  nibbling  one  of 
the  King's  cocoa-nuts.  He  was  hungry  and  sulky, 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      35 

and  kept  pushing  against  my  new  retainer,  who 
followed  meekly  at  my  heels. 

He  told  me  his  name  was  Tokosikasa.  But, 
this  being  too  much  of  a  mouthful,  I  promptly 
reduced  it  to  Toko. 


CHAPTER     TWO 

TONGU  had  often  mentioned  "Our  Fath- 
ers' Stone"  in  the  woods  to  the  west  of  the 
island.  We  decided  to  go  there  at  sun- 
rise the  next  day.  Toko  said  that  close  by  there 
was  a  clump  of  bread-fruit  trees  which  swarmed 
with  vampire  bats;  I  decided  to  shoot  some  of 
them  on  the  same  occasion. 

In  the  evening  Toko  prepared  his  bow,  and  I 
cleaned  my  gun.  Tongu  got  the  canoe  ready  and 
stocked  it  with  cocoa-nuts,  bananas,  and  yams,  so 
that  we  were  prepared  for  all  eventualities. 

Toko  woke  first  and  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a 
howl.  He  needs  lots  of  air.  If  he  does  not  get 
it,  he  becomes  as  slack  and  heavy  as  a  thunder- 
storm. 

The  eastern  sky  was  like  a  monster  mother-of- 
pearl  shell  streaked  with  silver.  After  a  time  the 
streaks  became  crimson,  and  finally,  right  down 
near  the  horizon,  gold.  Then  suddenly  the  edge 
of  the  sun  blazed  out  of  the  water,  colouring  the 
whole  mirror  red,  and  the  mother-of-pearl 
36 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      37 

shrivelled  up  into  pink  fluff.  When  the  molten 
ball  was  half-way  up,  the  fluff  vanished  in  the 
deep  blue  of  the  sea.  For  more  than  twenty 
years  I  have  watched  the  sun  rise  among  the  is- 
lands, but  I  never  tire  of  it.  I  never  shall  tire  of 
it. 

The  wind  blew  a  trifle  cold  from  the  northeast. 
It  was  the  beginning  of  April,  just  before  the  calm 
which  precedes  the  monsoon.  But  as  soon  as 
the  sun  was  right  up,  the  breeze  dropped. 

When  we  had  worked  the  sleep  from  our  joints, 
Toko  could  no  longer  contain  himself.  He  started 
off  at  a  run  round  the  courtyard,  so  that  Tongu's 
chickens  flew  flapping  in  all  directions.  Upon 
reaching  the  fence  he  steadied  himself,  grabbed 
two  of  the  poles,  and  with  a  shriek  of  triumph 
executed  a  back  somersault  right  over  the  top, 
landing  triumphantly  on  his  feet  in  the  white 
sand. 

Tongu  rushed  out  angrily  through  the  gate, 
where  Toko  stood  grinning  at  him,  his  hands  rest- 
ing on  his  knees.  It  was  the  second  time  he  had 
dared  to  insult  Tongu's  fence.  The  latter  stooped 
down  suddenly  and  scooped  up  a  double  handful 
of  sand,  intending  to  fling  it  in  Toko's  eyes,  but 
when  he  looked  up  again  the  transgressor  was 
already  running  full  tilt  towards  the  sea. 


38      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

"Why  take  any  notice  of  such  a  silly  boy?"  I 
said,  repressing  my  laughter.  And  after  calling 
down  all  the  curses  he  knew  upon  Toko's  yet  un- 
born children,  Tongu  recovered  his  temper  and  be- 
gan to  whistle. 

Toko  was  already  in  the  canoe,  which  he  pad- 
dled so  far  in  towards  the  coral  reef  that  the  float- 
ing-keel 1  stuck.  He  began  to  jump  up  and  down 
impatiently,  watching  us  the  while,  and,  to  work 
off  his  superfluous  energy,  waved  both  oars  vio- 
lently round  his  head. 

Tongu  and  I  waded  out  to  help  him.  Although 
Toko  annoyed  the  dignified  and  bearded  2  Tongu, 
the  latter  was,  nevertheless,  very  much  attached 
to  the  mischievous  young  rascal,  with  his  downy 
chin  and  smiling  face.  There  is  confoundedly 
little  room  in  a  canoe;  I  sat  forward,  with  my 
knees  jammed  against  my  chin  and  my  gun  in 
my  arms.  Behind  me  crouched  Tongu  and 
Toko,  each  wielding  a  paddle,  in  the  same  cramped 
position. 

In  this  manner  we  slid  out  over  the  smooth  la- 

1  The  canoe,  being  narrow  and  therefore  easily  capsized,  is 
fitted  with  an  auxiliary  beam  which  floats  parallel  to  the  canoe, 
rendering  it  more  stable. 

2  A  beard  is  a  mark  of  importance  on  the  island,  and  the 
word  is  used  with  this  meaning  even  when  the  person  referred 
to  has  no  beard,  e.g.  in  the  case  of  a  woman. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     39 

goon,  whose  dead-white  coral  bottom  several 
fathoms  down  showed  palely  through  its  light 
blue  waters. 

Toko  had  too  much  energy  for  mere  paddling. 
He  shouted  and  jodelled  till  his  throat  vibrated, 
throwing  his  head  up  and  back  like  a  singing  bird. 
The  sounds  had  no  definite  meaning,  he  said;  he 
simply  sits  in  the  morning  sun  and  lets  himself  go. 
That  is  all. 

After  a  short  time  I  began  shouting,  too,  an  old 
European  fragment  of  song  which  I  thought  I  had 
forgotten.  Tongu  joined  in  also.  Our  pace 
quickened;  we  flew  along  at  a  terrific  speed,  the 
floating-keel  smothered  in  foam. 

Out  on  the  reef  the  breakers  roared.  At  inter- 
vals they  swept  right  over  the  red,  shining  mass 
of  coral.  It  reminded  me  of  a  huge  bleeding 
wound  rinsed  with  soapy  water. 

Sea  birds  flapped  shrieking  over  the  wound,  and 
sandpipers  skimmed  low  over  the  surface  of  the  la- 
goon. It  was  a  glorious  morning;  the  sky  blazed 
like  the  dazzling  facet  of  an  enormous,  dark  blue 
diamond.  We  went  about  half-way  across;  the 
shore  gleamed  white  with  its  fine  coral  sand,  so 
that  the  eyes  ached  to  look  at  it,  although  the  sun 
was  yet  low  in  tbt  heavens.  Beyond  the  sand, 
just  on  the  other  side  of  the  road  leading  from  the 


40      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

shore,  the  slim  green  pisang-banana  palms  with 
their  enormous  leaves  fluttered  in  an  atmosphere 
which  was  so  transparent  that  I  could  distinguish 
the  purple  spots  on  their  stems  and  leaves.  The 
clusters  of  fruit  themselves  were  as  yet  quite  small 
and  green. 

The  cocoa-nut  palms  heaved  their  golden 
crowns  high  over  the  pisang  grove.  The  sensitive 
leaf-edges  vibrated  in  the  blazing  air,  although 
there  was  practically  no  wind.  Close  in  against 
the  trunk  (like  a  little  yellow  cloud  among  the 
leaves)  shone  the  squat  sheaves,  with  a  score  of 
fibre-covered  nuts  in  each.  It  was  the  King's 
cocoa-nut  grove,  from  which  all  the  boys  of  the 
village  stole  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Beyond  the  palms  again  a  few  aged  bread-fruit 
trees  stretched  their  horizontal  branches  covered 
with  enormous  dark  green  foliage.  The  bullet- 
shaped  fruit-flowers,  each  as  big  as  a  child's  head, 
were  green  and  ripe  for  plucking. 

Now  we  were  opposite  the  last  hut  in  our  vil- 
lage, which  was  the  King's  village  and  the  largest 
on  the  island.  The  other  villages  each  had  their 
own  king,  but  our  King  did  not  recognize  them, 
and  affirmed  that  he  was  the  sole  ruler  and  owner 
of  the  island. 

Behind,  and  parallel  with  the  stretch  of  sand, 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      41 

ran  a  thick,  dark  coppice,  consisting  of  wild  pisang 
trees.  They  were  smaller  than  the  cultivated 
ones,  and  stood  between  mighty  pandang  bushes, 
the  long,  narrow  leaves  of  which  fit  closely  into 
one  another. 

The  coast  turned  suddenly  towards  the  north- 
west. Still  we  maintained  our  speed,  and  soon 
caught  sight  of  the  yellow  pandang-leaf  roofs  of 
the  neighbouring  village,  a  prosperous  little  vil- 
lage, of  some  twenty  huts,  strongly  roofed  and 
well  founded  upon  beams.  The  stockades  were 
high  and  solid,  almost  buried  in  luxuriant  yam- 
tree  leaves. 

The  village  was  barely  awake,  sluggishly  start- 
ing the  day's  work.  Behind  the  huts,  in  a  dark 
patch  of  low  taro  bushes,  children  were  already 
playing  hide-and-seek.  As  soon  as  they  caught 
sight  of  us  they  rushed  down  to  the  edge  of  the 
water  to  stare  at  us. 

Before  one  of  the  huts  a  man  stretched  sleep 
from  his  limbs.  By  his  side  was  his  wife,  with  a 
baby  crawling  in  her  lap. 

Several  young  girls  were  playing  about  in  the 
water.  They  shrieked  like  happy  parroquets, 
splashing  water  in  each  other's  eyes  while  they 
took  their  morning  bath. 

They  kept  ducking  under  the  water  after  some- 


42      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

thing  which  they  swallowed  greedily,  and  tried  to 
snatch  from  one  another.  Either  they  were  sea 
slugs  or  a  little  pink  mussel  called  muamua  by  the 
natives  and  prized  by  them  above  all  other  shell- 
fish. 

They  shaded  their  eyes  with  their  hands  and 
stared  out  towards  us.  Some  of  them  obviously 
made  fun  of  us.  Toko  shrieked  at  the  top  of  his 
voice  that  we  would  be  there  in  a  minute. 

On  the  right  we  saw  the  village  canoe-house, 
much  smaller  than  ours,  in  reality  no  more  than  a 
bamboo  shed  covered  with  loose  cocoa-nut  leaves, 
decorated  by  a  single  painted  sun.  We  had  a 
sun,  a  sitting  woman,  fish,  birds,  and  a  cocoa-nut 
palm.  Also  our  roof  was  much  loftier  and  better 
thatched. 

Two  men  were  excavating  the  trunk  of  a  bread- 
fruit tree  with  their  little  hatchets.  When  they 
caught  sight  of  us,  they  waved  their  hatchets  and 
shouted.  We  shouted  again,  while  the  women, 
their  legs  straddled  in  the  white  sand,  stared  at 
us  in  silence. 

Toko  made  the  most  disgraceful  remarks  to 
them,  such  as  he  would  not  have  dreamed  of  say- 
ing to  the  women  of  his  own  village.  It  was 
impossible  for  them  to  hear  him,  but  nevertheless 


'  VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      43 

Tongu,  who  was  as  chivalrous  as  he  was  bearded, 
scolded  him  roundly. 

We  passed  them.  .  .  . 

There — apart  from  the  others — one  hut  more, 
in  a  cluster  of  pisang  trees.  A  man  was  busy  with 
the  mature  saplings.  He  felled  one  after  the 
other  with  his  white  ax,  which  gleamed  in  the 
sunlight  as  he  swung  it.  Children  ran  between 
his  legs;  but  when  the  trees  were  about  to  fall, 
he  pushed  them  away. 

The  pisang  tree  sighed  in  its  fall  like  a  living 
thing.  The  man's  wife  plucked  bananas  from  the 
fallen  tree,  throwing  the  over-ripe  ones  to  the 
children,  who  scrambled  for  them  like  small,  eager 
dogs.  Then  she  split  the  stem  and  carefully 
extracted  the  pith.  All  were  too  busy  to  notice 
us. 

Again,  we  came  to  a  dense  coppice,  where  small 
green  parrots  shrieked. 

What  was  that — another  human  being?  Oh. 
a  young  girl !  She  was  completely  nude,  and  had 
apparently  just  come  out  of  the  water,  looking 
for  grass  for  a  new  skirt.  Every  time  she  caught 
sight  of  a  flower  she  picked  it  and  put  it  in  her 
hair,  her  slim,  light  brown  arm  glowing  in  the  sun. 
Her  body  was  beautiful,  with  firm,  rounded  hips. 


44      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

After  watching  her  for  a  while  I  became  irritated. 
It  was  too  much;  after  all,  I  was  still  young! 
Even  Toko,  used  to  that  sort  of  thing,  craned  his 
neck  and  stared  with  all  his  might. 


CHAPTER    THRE  E 

THE  copse  came  to  an  end.  The  ground 
was  swampy,  the  reeds  twice  the  height 
of  a  man;  almost  a  jungle. 

"We  go  up  here!"  Tongu  explained. 

Through  the  reeds  a  narrow  stream  cut  its  way, 
thousands  of  long  vertical  roots  surmounted  by 
dark  crowns  arching  overhead. 

The  water  was  smooth  and  clear  and  very  dark. 
An  awe-inspiring  feeling  of  loneliness  enveloped 
us. 

It  was  impossible  to  land ;  the  banks  under  the 
mangrove  trees  were  one  continuous  mud-hole. 
Still,  a  little  farther,  paddling  swiftly,  I  saw  the 
mangroves  divide  on  the  left,  revealing  a  stream, 
barely  twenty  feet  broad.  The  trees  met  above 
our  heads;  only  a  shaft  of  light  filtered  along  the 
river,  with  a  patch  of  blue  sky  here  and  there. 

Trees  hundreds  of  years  old,   but  with  tops 

still  living,  green  and  fertile,  shut  out  light  and 

air,  their  rigid  branches,  half  decayed,   covered 

with  thick,  green  moss.     The  moss  was  starred 

45 


46      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

with  green-leaved,  red-flowering  plants,  creepers 
climbed  up  and  down,  weaving  themselves  to- 
gether into  an  impenetrable  net,  shutting  out  even 
sound. 

Hanging  from  the  mighty,  half-dead  branches, 
straight  down  into  the  mud,  the  auxiliary  roots 
sustained  life  in  the  parent  stem  by  supporting  it 
and  by  sucking  up  sustenance.  Creepers  hung 
everywhere  between  the  stems,  looking  exactly  like 
artificial  rope-ladders  leading  to  the  tops  of  the 
trees. 

It  was  cool  and  dark  here — the  transparent, 
deep  green  darkness  of  a  crystal.  It  was  still 
and  quiet;  the  cries  of  the  birds  and  the  splash 
of  the  paddles  gave  back  no  echo.  It  was  as  if 
closely  drawn  blinds  hung  down  from  the  roof 
of  the  forest.  Bird-calls  filled  the  air,  but  beyond 
an  occasional  flash  of  green  or  red  I  could  see 
nothing  of  the  singers. 

Again  and  again  I  cocked  my  gun,  but  in  vain. 
Each  time  my  eye  lost  the  target.  Pigeons 
cooed  incessantly — grey  fruit-pigeons  with  red 
bumps  over  their  beaks — but  it  was  impossible 
to  distinguish  them  as  long  as  they  remained 
motionless.  Even  Toko's  eyes  were  not  sharp 
enough. 

At  last  we  surprised  a  pair  which  were  sitting 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS       47 

on  one  of  the  aerial  roots  nearest  the  water,  drink- 
ing. They  flew  up  startled,  flapping  toward  the 
other  side  of  the  river. 

I  hit  one  of  them.  We  had  to  row  right  in 
among  the  roots,  where  Toko  secured  it  with  his 
oar.  I  shot  another  pair  farther  on.  They  are 
about  the  size  of  a  young  chicken,  and 
make  excellent  eating.  In  addition,  I  potted 
several  green  parrots  which,  yielding  to 
curiosity,  had  remained  on  the  outermost 
branches. 

We  saw  dark-red  honey-birds,  flashing  like 
lightning  among  the  branches,  but  each  time  I 
failed  to  get  my  gun  up  in  time.  Even  if  I 
had  succeeded  in  bringing  one  down,  I  doubt 
if  it  could  have  been  found.  They  kept  too  much 
towards  the  centre  of  the  trees,  and  the  body 
would  have  probably  fallen  in  an  inaccessible 
place,  or  have  remained  hanging  in  the  net  of 
creepers.  The  honey-bird,  a  small  and  agile  bird, 
lives  chiefly  on  honey. 

As  we  progressed  the  stream  became  narrower, 
the  silence  deeper.  At  last  even  the  cries  of  the 
birds  ceased.  The  wild  tangle  of  branches, 
leaves,  and  creepers  hung  stiff  and  motionless 
like  decorations  at  a  theatre.  It  has  an  uncanny 
effect  on  one  who  sees  it  for  the  first  time;  one 


48      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

cannot  shake  off  the  feeling  that  death  or  some 
other  form  of  evil  lurks  behind  this  strange,  un- 
natural calm,  as  though  the  eyes  of  a  gigantic 
serpent  were  staring  with  motionless  pupils  into 
one's  own. 

The  natives  never  altogether  conquer  their  fear, 
and  never  venture  into  the  forest  alone.  They 
believe  that  the  souls  of  evil  people  dwell  in  the 
deep  mud  under  the  mangrove  trees,  and  that  it 
is  their  sighs  and  breathing  which  swallow  up 
all  other  sounds. 

Both  Tongu  and  Toko  knew  these  waters  well. 
There,  where  the  stream  suddenly  swings  to  the 
right,  they  paddled  over  to  the  left  bank,  just 
in  the  curve. 

An  enormous  mangrove  tree  had  fallen  here, 
full  of  years.  It  had  broken  away  from  its  aerial 
roots,  which  stuck  up  out  of  the  black  mud  like 
the  ribs  of  a  skeleton.  The  creepers  hung  limply 
down  from  the  adjacent  trees,  swaying  in  the 
air  like  the  gigantic,  broken  threads  of  a  spider's 
web;  others  still  held,  but  were  stretched  to  the 
breaking-point,  as  if  pulled  by  human  beings 
binding  a  giant,  who  in  his  fall  had  torn  a  gash  of 
light  reaching  to  the  blue  sky — a  gash  which  the 
neighbouring  trees  had  not  yet  succeeded  in  mend- 
ing. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      49 

While  Tongu  held  the  canoe,  Toko  and  I  clam- 
bered up  on  the  trunk,  which  was  so  soft  and 
rotten  in  several  places  it  gave  way  in  under  our 
feet.  I  expected  the  whole  thing  to  collapse  and 
drop  us  into  the  black  mud,  the  smell  of  which 
rose,  putrid  and  noisome,  to  our  nostrils. 

When  we  reached  the  thin  end  of  the  trunk, 
which  lay  at  right  angles  to  the  river,  Tongu 
paddled  off  by  himself.  Toko  hastened  to  calm 
me,  assuring  me  that  we  should  find  him  again  all 
right. 

The  fallen  trunk  had  helped  us  over  the  worst 
of  the  morass,  but  we  were  compelled  to  jump 
from  branch  to  branch  the  last  piece  of  the  way, 
until  we  could  land  on  ground  which  was  less 
swampy,  and  into  which  our  feet  barely  sank. 

The  conditions  presently  became  more  favour- 
able; we  were  at  the  edge  of  a  clearing.  We 
made  for  it,  and  stood  suddenly  among  ferns 
which  grew  breast-high;  beyond,  we  came  to 
some  tall  alang-alang  grass,  with  clear  blue  sky 
overhead. 

There,  on  the  farther  side  of  the  clearing,  were 
the  bread-fruit  trees  which  Toko  had  mentioned, 
their  shining  dark-green  crowns  stretching  out 
their  boughs  to  one  another,  heavy  with  large, 
broad  leaves,  each  the  size  of  a  man's  chest.  Two 


50      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

birds    about    the    size    of    owls    suddenly    flut- 
tered up  over  the  tree-tops. 

I  raised  my  gun,  but  Toko  seized  my  arm. 

"They  are  vampire  bats!"  he  whispered. 
"Wait  till  they  settle.  It  is  their  sleeping  time 
now;  the  main  body  of  them  are  already  at  rest 
among  the  trees." 

They  circled  a  few  times  as  if  seeking  a  suit- 
able tree,  then  by  suddenly  drawing  in  their  wing- 
membrane  against  their  bodies,  fell  vertically 
downwards.  As  they  reached  the  tree-tops  they 
spread  their  wings  again  until  they  found  a  place 
of  rest.  With  a  faint  flap  they  struck  the  leaves. 
A  subdued  whistling  and  snarling  noise  arose 
from  the  flock  which  had  been  asleep  and  was  now 
rudely  disturbed.  The  scraping  of  leaves  against 
one  another  showed  us  how  the  branches  sank 
under  the  additional  burden. 

We  remained  still  for  some  minutes  until  all 
was  quiet.  Then  we  crept  cautiously  towards 
them. 

In  the  tree-tops,  in  the  cool,  dark  shade  of  the 
leaves,  they  hung  high  up  along  the  branches,  in 
innumerable  rows.  They  hung  like  hams  in  a 
provision  merchant's  loft,  head  downwards, 
wrapped  in  their  wing-mebranes,  silent  and  mo- 
tionless. Not  the  faintest  sound  was  to  be  heard. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      51 

Any  one  not  knowing  what  they  were,  could  not 
possibly  have  suspected  them  to  be  alive;  the  nests 
of  the  potter-bird  perhaps,  or  some  other  similar 
animal,  but  living  and  breathing  creatures,  never. 

I  took  careful  aim  and  fired,  but  the  bat  re- 
mained hanging  apparently  undisturbed.  Not 
even  wounded,  thought  I.  I  fired  again — same 
result !  It  was  incredible;  I  had  never  in  my  life 
shot  so  badly.  I  prepared  to  shoot  again,  but 
in  the  same  moment  the  flock  took  alarm.  Heads 
with  pointed  ears  reappeared  from  under  the 
wing-membrane.  Wings  quivered  and  were  ex- 
tended. In  a  trice  they  had  risen  above  the 
branches,  shrieking  like  young  monkeys;  burst 
through  the  leaves ;  vanished.  One  only  remained 
hanging.  But  all  at  once,  without  the  least  warn- 
ing, it  loosened  its  hold,  and  without  opening 
its  wings,  fell  silently  to  the  ground,  as  if  it 
had  been  suspended  by  a  string  which  had  sud- 
denly broken. 

Toko,  who  had  reserved  his  arrows  until  find- 
ing some  less  elevated  game,  screamed  with  laugh- 
ter at  my  astonishment.  He,  of  course,  knew 
that  they  frequently  remain  hanging  by  their  big 
toes  fully  five  minutes  after  death.  It  is  only 
when  the  sinew  is  quite  relaxed  that  the  creature 
falls  of  its  own  weight. 


52      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

That  was  the  explanation  of  my  bad  marks- 
manship. We  now  walked  from  tree  to  tree, 
seeking  those  which  had  not  been  frightened  by 
the  shooting.  At  last,  some  distance  farther  on, 
we  found  another  flock.  I  shot  a  couple,  more 
out  of  curiosity  than  any  desire  for  sport,  for  it 
was  mere  target  shooting.  I  had  also  to  hus- 
band my  ammunition;  the  time  would  soon  come 
when  I  must  be  content  with  a  bow  and  arrow. 

The  natives  don't  kill  vampire  bats  as  a  rule. 
The  men  may  not  eat  them  and  they  hang  too 
high  in  the  trees  for  a  vertical  bow-shot.  Only 
those  which  settle  in  the  cultivated  bread-fruit 
trees  are  mercilessly  killed,  because  they  eat  the 
fruit.  The  cunning  bats  know  this  quite  well, 
and  only  go  there  when  it  is  quite  dark. 

The  last  one  I  shot  flapped  its  downy  wings 
feebly  in  its  fall,  but  when  I  picked  it  up,  its  eyes 
were  quite  dull.  Under  the  wings,  however, 
which  had  again  closed  together,  I  noticed  a  move- 
ment, and  upon  pulling  them  back  I  found  a 
young  bat  with  its  arms  and  legs  outstretched 
clasping  its  mother  round  the  body.  The  young 
one's  thin  wing-film  clung  so  tightly  to  its  mother 
that  we  could  not  separate  the  two.  It  was  only 
just  born,  and  thin  as  a  skeleton,  with  a  weird 
old  man's  head.  It  took  not  the  slightest  notice 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS       53 

of  me;  its  whole  being  was  concentrated  on  its 
snout,  which  continued  to  pull  and  suck  at  the 
dead  mother's  udder,  which  was  of  a  lighter  colour 
than  the  body.  The  young  one  itself  was  not 
hit  at  all. 

We  proceeded  farther,  through  grass  and 
breast-high  ferns,  until  we  again  reached  a  clear- 
ing. 

"Our  Fathers'  Stone!"  shouted  Toko,  pointing 
ahead.  A  moment  later  we  were  there. 

In  reality  it  was  a  ruin,  consisting  of  a  rec- 
tangular courtyard  surrounded  by  four  broken- 
down  walls  formed  of  enormous,  oblong  blocks 
of  basalt.  In  one  wall  was  an  opening  resem- 
bling a  doorway. 

A  small  stone  basin,  overgrown  with  ferns, 
stood  at  one  side  brimming  over  with  fresh  clear 
water,  which  apparently  filtered  up  from  some 
subterranean  spring. 

Toko  knew  very  little  about  the  origin  of  the 
walls.  He  could  only  tell  me  that  they  had  been 
built  to  defend  "Our  Fathers,"  a  numerous  and 
powerful  tribe  which  was  constantly  at  war  with 
the  other  islands,  and  possessed  canoes  far  larger 
and  swifter  than  our  present  ones,  in  which  it 
made  expeditions  and  raids  to  distant  islands,  the 
names  of  which  he  did  not  know. 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

IT  was  already  well  past  midday.     We  set 
about  finding  Tongu. 
Toko  took  his  bearings  by  the  sun,  but  kept 
halting  ana  sniffing  about  him  like  a  setter. 

"What  are  you  sniffing1?"  I  asked  him. 

"The  mangrove  swamp,"  he  answered. 

Wh/m  he  had  once  settled  on  the  course  he 
went  steadily  forward.  Soon  we  could  see  the 
mangrove  copse.  Toko  again  took  his  bearings 
carefully  before  proceeding.  We  were  forced 
once  more  to  climb  and  wrestle  with  the  hanging 
creepers.  The  grass  disappeared,  and  the  ground 
became  swampy  again.  We  balanced  ourselves  on 
rotting  trunks,  which  frequently  collapsed  under 
our  feet,  leaving  us  hanging  to  some  branch  or 
other,  which  we  dared  not  relinquish  before  find- 
ing a  new  foothold. 

Once  as  I  hung  there  helpless,  my  arms  out- 
stretched, my  cartridge  belt  tightly  strapped  round 
my  waist  to  prevent  it  getting  lost,  1  thought  to 
myself  how  lucky  it  was  there  were  no  gorillas 

54 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS       55 

or  other  large  beasts  of  prey  on  the  islands — not 
to  mention  poisonous  snakes.  The  sole  speci- 
men of  the  latter  is  the  little  siguaganti,  and  that 
is  quite  harmless. 

At  last  we  reached  the  stream.  We  were  so 
near  its  outlet  that  we  could  see  the  lagoon,  which 
was  overhung  with  vegetation  just  like  the  one 
we  had  left  a  few  hours  before.  The  stream  ap- 
parently cuts  off  a  corner  from  the  island. 

"This  is  not  the  same  stream  as  before,"  Toko 
explained,  "it  is  its  daughter."  l 

Toko  gave  the  usual  signal-whistle,  which  re- 
sembles the  jodelling  throat-notes  in  a  nightin- 
gale's song,  but  is  much  longer. 

There  was  a  pause.  Then  came  Tongu's  an- 
swer from  the  direction  of  the  lagoon,  and  soon 
after  the  canoe  came  gliding  towards  us  from  the 
mouth  of  the  river. 

After  a  bite  of  food  we  paddled  out  along  the 
lagoon,  which  was  bounded  on  either  side  by  long- 
stretches  of  jungle. 

When  we  at  last  arrived  at  the  lagoon  it  was 
as  smooth  and  shining  as  a  mirror.  The  reef 
was  no  longer  bathed  in  breakers,  only  the  ex- 
treme top  of  it  being  visible.  I  took  the  oar 
from  Tongu,  who  had  paddled  without  intermis- 

i  Tributary. 


56      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

sion  since  early  morning,  and  we  progressed  for 
a  long  space  in  silence.  Tongu  fell  asleep,  his 
head  between  his  doubled-up  knees,  while  Toko 
sat  staring  straight  before  him  with  half -closed, 
unseeing  eyes. 

Once,  when  I  asked  what  he  was  thinking  of, 
he  answered,  "Air !"  Observing  my  surprise,  he 
added,  "Myself  and  the  air!"  Then,  evidently 
considering  the  subject  disposed  of,  he  returned 
to  his  meditations. 

The  lagoon  widened;  the  coast,  covered  with 
strange  bushes,  receded.  Farther  inland  we  could 
see  scattered  groups  of  cocoa-nut  palms,  a  sure 
sign  of  a  village.  And  it  was  not  long  before  we 
saw  palm  trees  reaching  to  the  coast;  then  came 
a  small  grove  of  trees  in  orderly  rows ;  finally  the 
first  yellow  hut-roof  gleamed  through  the  green 
trunks. 

Simultaneously  the  strand  broadened.  A 
canoe  lying  upon  the  sands  roused  Toko  from  his 
reverie.  It  was  about  twice  the  size  of  ours,  and 
had  a  mast  on  which  hung  a  square  mat  of  fibre 
for  a  sail.  Fastened  to  the  gunwale  were  bamboo 
rods  reaching  out  to  the  floating  keel. 

"A  royal  canoe !"  he  shouted,  dropping  his  oar. 

Our  King  had  a  similar  one,  but  this  canoe 
was  bigger  and  of  better  quality,  with  its  bow 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS       57 


carved  and  its  sail  dyed  yellow  with  turmeric, 
which  the  women  use  to  paint  themselves  with 
before  dancing. 

Their  canoe-house  was  also  superior  to  ours, 
although  ours  was  the  pride  of  the  village. 
Toko  poked  Tongu  into  wakefulness  lest  he 
should  miss  the  sight.  The  latter  rubbed  his  eyes 
hard,  and  stared  for  a  long  time  at  the  strange 
village. 

"It  is  Wattiwua !"  said  he  finally.  "It  is  more 
wealthy  than  ours." 

Toko  murmured  something  about  coming 
again  with  many  canoes  and  capturing  it,  but 
Tongu,  who  was  sufficiently  clever  and  exper- 
ienced to  bow  to  superior  force,  said : 

"They  are  great,  and  we  are  small.  Let  us 
pay  them  a  visit;  rich  people  are  good  hosts !" 

I  acquiesced  at  once. 

The  village,  which  now  came  into  view  round 
the  end  of  the  point,  lay  in  a  semicircular  bay. 
The  strongly  roofed  huts  standing  on  pointed 
beams  looked  very  inviting.  The  sun  beat  down 
upon  us.  My  mouth  watered  like  that  of  a 
thirsty  man  on  finding  a  bottle  when  I  saw  the 
delicious  shade  there  under  the  palm  trees. 

The  people  had  already  seen  us.  Some  men 
and  women,  preceded  by  a  group  of  children, 


58      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

came  down  to  the  flat  beach,  the  men  with  the 
left  hand  behind  their  backs  clasping  the  right 
arm.  This,  I  think,  they  practise  to  maintain 
an  upright  and  dignified  bearing. 

After  looking  at  us  for  a  while  they  began  talk- 
ing excitedly  together,  shading  their  eyes  and  star- 
ing at  us. 

"It  is  you!"  said  Tongu;  "they  have  heard 
of  'the  stranger'  on  the  island." 

Tongu  took  my  oar  and  raised  it  above  his 
head ;  they  immediately  began  to  call  and  beckon 
to  us. 

"We  are  welcome!"  said  he,  smiling.  Toko 
and  he  paddled  towards  the  shore  with  all  their 
might,  Toko's  youthful  face  quivering  with  ex- 
pectation, his  thick  nostrils  working  incessantly. 

When  the  canoe  was  near  land  and  we  were 
preparing  to  step  out  and  wade,  two  of  the  men 
suddenly  ran  towards  us  shouting  something  I 
could  not  understand,  stretching  out  their  arms 
warningly  towards  us. 

"They  wish  to  carry  the  stranger  to  land!" 
said  Tongu,  with  a  gratified  smile  at  the  honour 
shown  to  us. 

I  considered  myself  in  no  respect  superior  to 
the  natives,  and  preferred  always  to  be  treated  as 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS       59 

their  equal.  I  therefore  refused  the  honour 
offered  me  and  pointed  to  Tongu. 

"Take  him!"  I  said.  "He  is  both  older  and 
more  bearded  than  I." 

The  natives  were  astounded  at  my  speaking 
their  tongue,  and  looked  doubtfully  at  one  an- 
other and  at  Tongu.  Tongu  frowned  disapprov- 
ingly, and  said  that  I  must  not  slight  their  hospi- 
tality. 

After  that  I  yielded.  The  bigger  native 
quickly  took  me  on  his  back,  while  the  other, 
after  hesitating  a  moment,  measuring  Tongu's 
dignity  with  his  own,  resolutely  seized  the  bearded 
one  and  carried  him,  too,  pick-a-back  to  land. 

We  were  borne  at  a  slow  trot  over  the  hard 
ground,  while  Toko,  assisted  by  some  of  the  otfier 
natives,  lifted  the  canoe  out  of  the  water.  When 
we  were  comfortably  seated  under  the  palms,  the 
men  and  women  surrounded  us  and  made  a 
thorough  examination  of  my  fair  hair,  my  light 
eyes,  my  light  skin,  my  clothes,  my  buttons; 
above  all,  my  gun.  As  soon  as  the  ceremonial 
betel-nut  chewing  was  finished,  and  cocoa-nut 
milk  and  bananas  were  placed  before  us,  they 
overwhelmed  me  with  all  possible  manner  of  ques- 
tions. Because  I  could  not  answer  them  all,  some 


60      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

of  them  waxed  impatient  and  pulled  at  my  clothes 
to  attract  attention. 

I  had  to  tell  them  where  I  came  from,  how 
I  came  to  the  island,  where  I  had  learnt  their 
language,  and  so  on.  I  could  see  from  their  eyes 
that  nearly  all  my  answers  were  unintelligible  to 
them;  however,  they  made  the  most  of  the  situa- 
tion, sucking  in  with  all  their  five  naked  senses  as 
much  as  possible  of  the  unique  occurrence. 

Tongu  assisted  me  in  his  solemn  and  bearded 
manner,  elucidating  my  speech,  and  adding  what 
he  thought  I  had  forgotten,  or  had  not  bragged 
about  sufficiently.  He  could  not  have  done  it 
better  if  he  had  been  a  showman  in  the  market- 
place displaying  his  dancing  bear. 

In  the  meanwhile  a  fire  was  made  for  prepar- 
ing the  evening  meal, *  and  the  women  ran  about 
fetching  the  food. 

Then  we  heard  merry  talking  and  singing  up 
behind  the  huts.  It  was  the  young  men  and 
women  of  the  village  returning  from  their  work 
in  the  fields.  They  walked  in  twos,  bearing  poles 
between  them  from  which  hung  bunches  of 
bananas.  Others  balanced  upon  their  heads  bas- 
kets full  of  yams  and  taro  roots. 

1  Bread-fruit  and  taro  roots  baked  between  red-hot  stones 
and   eaten   together   with    minced   bananas   and   chopped-up 


cocoa-nuts. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      61 

The  moment  the  children  heard  them,  they 
rushed  away  to  communicate  the  great  news  of 
our  arrival.  The  young  men  and  girls  stared  at 
us  for  a  few  seconds  with  their  mouths  wide 
open.  Then  they  came  towards  us,  two  by  two, 
as  fast  as  they  could  with  their  burdens. 

Outside  a  long  building,  probably  the  Com- 
mon House,  with  a  high  gable  painted  all  over 
with  geometrical  figures,  was  an  open  space  like 
a  market-place.  Having  arrived  there,  they 
threw  down  their  burdens  and  ran  the  rest  of  the 
way  towards  us. 

"I  love  you!"  *  I  shouted  to  them. 

They  were  so  amazed  that  they  forgot  to  re- 
turn my  greeting,  until  at  last  one  of  the  women 
smiled,  and  then  another.  Finally  they  all  be- 
gan shouting  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  "I  love 
you!"  They  came  right  up  to  me,  crowding 
round  the  fire,  each  one  seeking  to  secure  a  place 
as  near  as  possible  to  me. 

A  couple  of  the  bearded  elders  grumbled  at  the 
disturbance.  One  of  them  even  seized  a  blazing 
stick  from  the  fire  and  threatened  a  cheeky  boy 
with  it.  After  a  while  they  all  quieted  down. 

No  one  on  earth  can  stare  with  his  whole 
body  and  soul  as  do  these  young  natives.  Their 

1  The  usual  greeting. 


62      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

jaw  drops,  and  they  hardly  breathe  as  they  suck 
in  the  impression  through  eyes,  ears,  mouth, 
and  nose.  At  least  that  is  what  it  looks  like.  I 
am  perfectly  certain  that  they  never  forget  in 
their  whole  lives  the  impressions  thus  acquired. 

There  was  one,  a  girl,  especially  noticeable: 
small,  with  the  softest  rounded  shoulders  and  the 
clearest,  silkiest,  light  brown  skin  I  have  ever 
beheld.  Her  forehead  curved  gently,  half  hidden 
by  her  shining,  curly  hair,  which  formed  a  dark 
cloud  round  her  ears.  Her  head  was  covered 
with  flowers  picked  in  the  fields.  Round  her 
neck  hung  a  wreath  of  small  yellow  blossoms, 
which  she  kept  touching  with  her  hand  to  make 
certain  they  were  still  there.  Lost  in  contempla- 
tion, she  stood  in  silence,  with  one  hand  curved 
under  her  firm,  half-developed  breast.  She  was 
barely  fourteen  years  old,  on  the  verge  of  woman- 
hood. Her  pointed,  regular  teeth,  which  she  ex- 
posed generously  every  time  I  looked  towards  her, 
had  only  just  been  coloured. 

These  young  brown  girls,  just  admitted  to  the 
Common  House,  defy  competition  in  the  art  of 
staring.  Their  glance  is  more  daring  than  that 
of  any  European  woman,  but  nevertheless 
strangely  chaste,  clean,  innocent.  It  conceals 
nothing,  betraying  each  inquiry,  each  desire,  each 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      63 

impulse  which  enters  their  minds.  There  is  no 
flippancy,  no  giggling,  no  secret  sensuality. 
Proud  of  their  own  natural  tendencies,  they  take 
and  give  without  reservation,  without  shame.  All 
that  they  do,  they  do  thoroughly. 

It  is  because  of  these  mild  and  noble  women 
that  for  many  years  I  desired  nothing  better 
than  to  live  the  rest  of  my  life  upon  this  island. 
But  now,  alas,  it  cannot  be. 

It  is  because  of  these  women  that  I  cannot 
now  in  my  loneliness  saunter  along  the  Boulevard 
in  the  evening  and  see  the  civilized  demi- 
mondaine's  shameless  smile  without  being  utterly 
disgusted.  Female  beasts  would  be  a  flattering 
name  for  the  latter.  They  are  beings  in  whom 
the  human  has  first  of  all  debased  the  animal, 
with  the  result  that  the  degraded  animal  has 
turned  in  despair  and  killed  the  human.  They 
have  befouled  nature's  holy  source —  "By  their 
works  ye  shall  know  them!" 

I  could  not  resist  looking  at  this  lovely  child, 
and  I  saw  how  all  her  senses  felt  my  admiration 
for  her.  Her  mouth  parted  in  a  quiet  smile,  an 
expression  crept  into  her  eyes  which  I  have 
frequently  observed  in  the  native  woman.  I  re- 
gard it  as  nature's  primitive  expression  of  woman's 
desire  to  give.  At  once  shining  and  dull,  almost 


64      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

expressionless,  like  a  ripe  black  grape  on  the  point 
of  bursting. 

By  the  time  we  had  eaten  our  fill,  the  sun 
had  set  with  the  usual  tropical  suddenness.  I 
could  distinguish  nothing  of  the  girl  except  the 
glint  of  the  camp  fire  in  her  eyes.  Soon  after 
she  rose  from  her  place;  a  moment  later  she 
was  at  my  side.  I  felt  her  warm  shoulder,  firm 
and  bare  against  my  arm,  while  the  intoxicating 
smell  of  her  spiced  hair  filled  my  nostrils. 

The  natives  are  ignorant  of  kissing.  They 
would  be  very  surprised,  perhaps  disgusted,  if 
they  saw  two  people  put  their  masticating  organs 
together.  When  a  man  desires  a  woman  he 
places  his  palm  under  her  breast,  one  or  both; 
if  she  is  acquiescent,  she  places  one  or  both  hands 
on  the  back  of  his  neck. 

I  was  well  aware  that  it  is  not  good  form  in 
the  islands  to  make  love  to  girls  other  than 
"joyless  widows,"  when  a  guest  in  a  strange 
village.  I  knew  also  that  it  is  not  proper  for  a 
girl  to  give  her  love  to  a  man  from  a  strange 
village.  Nevertheless,  I  could  not  resist,  now 
that  she  had  seated  herself  so  close  to  me. 

But  it  was  too  late.  We  were  already  dis- 
covered. In  fact,  we  were  the  centre  of  attention. 

The  young  men  and  women  were  going  to  their 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      65 

common  slumber  in  the  long  house,  and  they  had 
already  missed  her.  They  were  calling  out  some- 
thing from  up  there,  not  once  but  several  times. 
I  understood  from  her  start  that  it  was  her  name 
they  shouted. 

Then  a  young  fellow,  possibly  her  brother, 
came  back  and  leaned  forward  over  the  fire  staring 
at  us,  muttering  and  making  signs  to  her.  When 
that  was  of  no  avail,  one  of  the  elder  men  pushed 
her  from  behind.  Although  he  spoke  in  an  under- 
tone, I  overheard  him  say  that  she  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  herself  for  sitting  with  a  stranger,  and 
above  all  a  stranger  who  had  a  loincloth  over  his 
whole  body. 

I  neither  wished  nor  dared  to  break  the  guest- 
law.  With  a  deep  sigh  I  followed  her  with  my 
eyes,  as  she  went  away  without  a  word,  without 
even  a  backward  glance — away  to  sleep  among 
young  men  of  her  own  race. 

Then  I  lay  down  under  the  palms  between 
Tongu  and  Toko,  and  slept  soundly  beneath  the 
starry  sky,  which  says  nothing  and  understands 
all. 


CHAPTER    FIVE 

ONE  morning  I  accompanied  the  young 
people  to  their  work  in  the  fields. 
Winawa  was  among  them.  Her  glance 
was  like  a  flash  of  light — pulsating,  vibrant. 
Her  hair  was  fairer  than  usual,  and  rippled  with 
small,  close  curls,  which  glinted  in  the  sun.  Her 
shoulders  were  rather  too  broad,  but  her  arms 
were  smooth  and  round  and  dimpled  at  the 
elbows.  As  she  breathed,  chains  of  shells 
quivered  and  shook  over  the  hollow  between  her 
soft  round  breasts.  Our  party  consisted  of 
Toko;  undersized  Kadu  with  his  pointed  dog- 
teeth; and  slim,  silent  Fagoda,  with  his  fixed, 
melancholy  glance. 

Among  the  women  were  Awa,  with  small,  firm 
breasts  high  above  her  plump  stomach;  stately 
Muwa,  with  long,  black,  frizzy  hair,  as  coarse 
as  her  mind,  standing  out  behind  her  ears  like 
an  ostrich  feather;  short,  compact  Sakalawa  with 
strong  hips,  and  prettily  turned  light  mahogany 
legs.  She  was  outspoken  and  cheerful,  and 
66 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      67 

laughed  at  the  slightest  joke.  Then  there  was 
Milawa,  with  her  low  forehead  and  thick,  sullen 
lips  which  she  was  perpetually  smacking.  She 
was  a  great  favourite,  chubby  and  affectionate, 
with  plump,  pretty  shoulders.  Finally,  the 
broad-nosed  Nanuki,  with  eyes  that  always  fol- 
lowed you  about.  She  was  a  trifle  hump-backed, 
and  was  reserved  and  passionate. 

We  knelt  down  in  two  rows  and  removed  the 
fresh  shoots  from  the  taro  plants  so  that  the 
two  innermost  leaves,  which  we  did  not  touch, 
might  grow  better.  In  addition,  we  loosened  the 
earth  round  the  bulb,  and  pulled  up  the  weeds. 

The  sun  beat  down  on  my  back,  burning  me 
through  my  white  coat.  The  girls  sang  as  they 
worked,  each  with  her  own  words,  mostly  incom- 
prehensible nonsense,  probably  made  up  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment. 

Toko  was  leader  of  our  row.  Kadu  was  just 
in  front  of  me.  The  sweat  ran  in  shining  drops 
down  his  back,  disappearing  under  his  red  loin- 
cloth. 

In  the  women's  row  Muwa  was  number  one.  I 
managed  to  be  opposite  Winawa,  whose  smooth 
arms  shone  in  the  sun,  dazzling  my  eyes. 

The  women  always  plant  flowers,  wherever 
they  can.  They  planted  some  here  between  the 


68      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

taro  bushes,  when  they  put  in  the  bulbs  two 
months  previously.  The  chief  ones  are  the  cro- 
ton  with  its  variegated  leaves,  which  the  natives 
love,  and  the  shining  yellow  koleus,  which  they 
plait  into  wreaths  for  necklaces. 

Butterflies  fluttered  up  from  every  bush  we 
touched;  we  ceaselessly  brushed  away  the  insects, 
which  buzzed  in  swarms  round  our  ears.  Scented 
waves  (reminiscent  of  vanilla  or  heliotrope) 
floated  through  the  motionless,  sun-stifled  air.  I 
think  they  emanated  from  a  kind  of  gardenia 
which  bloomed  on  our  left. 

In  spite  of  the  heat  it  was  all  very  enjoyable. 
The  girls  sang  as  they  moved  from  bush  to  bush. 
They  kept  stretching  their  necks  in  search  of 
flowers,  and  when  they  saw  one  they  wanted — 
for  each  had  her  favourite — they  threw  them- 
selves flat  upon  the  ground,  plucked  it,  rubbed 
it  over  their  nose  and  lips,  as  if  about  to  eat  it, 
and  then  put  it  in  their  hair. 

The  sun  sparkled  and  gleamed  on  their  per- 
spiring backs,  which  resemble  nothing  so  much 
as  light  brown  horse-meat,  steaming  in  the  warm 
air. 

Kadu  chewed  betel-nut  and  at  intervals  spat 
sideways  in  long,  dark  red  stripes  which  wriggled 
like  worms  on  the  loose  white  earth. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS       69 

At  last  the  heat  was  too  much  for  my  back;  I 
threw  off  my  coat  and  sat  there  naked  to  the 
waist  like  the  others. 

"Look  at  the  Red  Man!"  cried  Sakalawa. 
The  girls  all  called  me  this  because  of  my  hair, 
which  has  a  reddish  tinge,  and  also  because  of 
my  red  cheeks.  The  men  called  me  the  White 
Man,  as  they  do  all  Europeans. 

The  singing  stopped  abruptly ;  the  girls  swung 
round  on  their  knees  to  stare  at  me  with  in- 
quisitive, amazed  eyes. 

"Did  you  think  only  my  face  was  red*?"  I 
asked,  turning  towards  them. 

"Ai!     Ai!"1 

One  after  the  other  they  leaped  to  their  feet 
and  came  nearer  to  examine  me,  front  and  back. 
My  skin  was,  of  course,  discoloured  with  heat  and 
sweat.  Kadu  turned  towards  me  with  a  wide- 
mouthed  smile,  exposing  his  pointed  teeth. 

"Pig's  back!"  he  ejaculated,  smacking  his  lips 
as  though  invited  to  a  feast. 

Toko,  offended  at  the  insult  to  me,  declared 
boldly  that  a  red  skin  was  a  proof  of  wealth,  and 
that  the  possessor  of  it  deserved  many  wives. 

Inquisitive  Awa,  who  stood  so  close  to  me  that 
her  fat  calves  rubbed  my  elbow,  could  restrain 

1  Native  exclamation  of  astonishment  or  admiration. 


7o      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

herself  no  longer.     She  poked  my  back  cautiously 
with  her  stubby  fingers. 

"Ai!    Ai!" 

Then  she  stroked  me  gingerly  with  her  open 
palm;  only  to  step  back  nervously.  She  was  not 
sure  whether  my  back  was  nice  or  nasty. 

Milawa,  on  the  contrary,  was  quite  sure  that 
it  was  nice,  and,  smacking  her  sullen  lips,  rubbed 
her  plump  shoulder  up  and  down  between  my 
shoulder  blades,  her  hands  clasped  behind  her 
back. 

Nanuki's  dark  eyes  were  also  fixed  upon  me  as 
she  stood  there  motionless  on  her  slim  ankles, 
as  if  rooted  to  the  spot. 

Winawa  alone,  the  very  one  I  wanted  to  come 
to  me,  remained  where  she  was.  She  cast 
quick  side-glances  at  intervals,  her  lips  parted, 
her  breast  rising  and  falling  rapidly. 

"Winawa,  come  too!"  I  cried,  stretching  out 
my  arms  towards  her. 

She  pulled  a  handful  of  leaves  from  a  taro 
bush  and  threw  them  at  me,  at  the  same  time 
throwing  back  her  head  like  a  skittish  foal.  It 
was  a  good  sign. 

Everything  she  did  delighted  me ;  she  was  grace- 
ful to  the  finger-tips;  the  way  she  interlaced  her 
fingers  over  her  knee  and  leaned  slightly  forward 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS       71 

when  she  listened.  But  had  I  attempted  to  kiss 
her,  she  would  have  imagined  that  I  was  about 
to  eat  her. 

"Have  your  women  also  red  backs'?"  she  asked. 

"They  are  shining  white!" 

"Have  they  also  a  shirt  over  their  whole  body, 
as  you  have  a  loincloth*?"  Awa  demanded. 

"They  are  covered  all  over  with  a  mat  which 
is  fastened  tightly  round  their  neck  and  waist." 

"Don't  they  show  their  breasts?"  exclaimed 
Milawa,  amazed. 

"No,  not  as  a  rule." 

"Then  how  do  you  know  when  a  girl  is 
pretty?" 

"You  don't  know,  and  are  very  often  cheated." 

Milawa  puffed  contemptuously,  ashamed  that 
members  of  her  sex  dared  clothe  themselves  so 
indecently. 

"How  can  they  nurse  their  babies'?"  asked 
Sakalawa,  who  had  been  sitting  for  some  time 
considering  the  matter. 

"They  prefer  not  to  use  their  breasts  for  that 
purpose,  but  instead  give  their  children  milk 
from  a  pumpkin."  1 

"Where  do  they  obtain  the  milk?" 

"From  big,  red,  four-legged  animals." 

1  The  natives  have  no  other  word  for  flask. 


72      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

They  all  sat  with  their  palms  extended,  gaping 
with  astonishment. 

Suddenly,  as  if  at  the  word  of  command,  they 
burst  out  laughing.  Even  the  stately  Muwa 
slapped  her  hands  on  her  fat  thighs. 

They  didn't  believe  a  word  of  it! 

"Are  your  legs  red  too*?"  asks  Sakalawa,  after 
another  interval  of  thought. 

"Yes,  certainly." 

"Show  us  them!"  said  Milawa,  leaning  for- 
ward, her  hands  resting  on  her  plump  knees. 
I  turned  my  trousers  up  above  my  knees  as  far 
as  I  could. 

"Ai!     Ai!" 

Milawa  instinctively  shrank  back,  her  eyes 
glued  to  the  extraordinary  sight.  Winawa's 
shining  orbs  almost  started  from  their  sockets. 

After  an  interval  of  dumbfounded  silence, 
Fagoda  of  the  melancholy  glance  spoke :  "Come, 
let  us  dream!" 

It  is  a  magic  formula;  all  jumped  up  and  shook 
the  earth  from  them,  while  Toko  ran  towards 
some  plants  growing  isolated  from  the  rest. 
They  were  kawa-kawa  plants.  He  cleaned  the 
root,  broke  it  up  into  small  pieces,  and  gave  one 
to  each  woman. 

"Let  me !"  they  all  shouted  at  the  top  of  their 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS       73 

voices,  crowding  round  me  as  I  lay  on  my  coat 
in  the  shade.  They  pushed  and  shoved  one  an- 
other in  their  efforts  to  approach  nearer,  open- 
ing their  mouths  wide  and  pushing  back  their 
lips  with  their  fingers,  to  show  that  their  teeth 
were  clean  and  sound,  and  that  their  palates  were 
without  cold  or  any  inflammation.  Winawa 
alone  held  back,  although  I  could  see  from  her 
bulging  eyes  that  her  whole  heart  was  with  me. 

I  pointed  my  finger  at  her.  "You  shall  chew 
for  me!"  I  said. 

She  immediately  squatted  down,  and  without 
a  word  began  to  masticate. 

Then  Kuda,  Toko,  and  Fagoda  each  chose  a 
woman  to  chew  for  him.  Those  left  over  threw 
themselves  sulkily  upon  their  backs,  and  chewed 
for  themselves. 

The  woman  chosen  by  a  man  to  chew  for  him 
is  the  one  he  prefers  to  dream  of  during  his 
trance;  and  the  fact  of  her  chewing  produces 
the  desired  result.  If  he  fails  to  dream  of  her, 
it  is  a  proof  that  she  has  fixed  her  thoughts  upon 
another  man  during  the  chewing,  which  is  a 
direct  insult,  for  she  could  have  declined  his  in- 
vitation. 

Winawa  finished.  With  bashful  grace  she 
gave  me  a  cocoa-nut  shell,  into  which  she  had 


74      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

spat  out  the  kawa  juice,  poured  into  it  milk  from 
a  freshly  opened  nut,  and  with  downcast  eyes 
seated  herself  on  the  ground  near  me. 

I  had  never  drunk  kawa  before;  it  tasted  like 
soapy  water,  flavoured  with  sugar.  But  I  never- 
theless swallowed  it  hurriedly,  for  the  sake  of  her 
of  whom  I  desired  to  dream. 

We  all  lay  flat  on  our  back,  with  knees  drawn 
up  and  hands  under  our  heads.  One  by  one  I 
saw  the  others  fall  over  on  their  sides,  their  eyes 
shut,  and  a  peculiar,  satisfied  smile  on  their  faces. 
Suddenly  Winawa,  whom  I  could  see  from  where 
I  lay,  seemed  to  rise  up  and  down  and  sway  from 
side  to  side.  She  became  slimmer  and  fairer,  and 
after  a  while  pulled  herself  into  a  crouching  at- 
titude, sitting  there  smiling  and  seductive. 

When  I  awoke,  the  shadow  from  the  tree 
touched  the  taro  bushes;  about  two  hours  had 
passed. 

The  others  were  already  at  work  in  the  fields. 
They  squatted  on  their  haunches  grinning  at  me 
when  I  staggered  towards  them.  But  Winawa 
went  on  working  and  did  not  meet  my  eyes. 

When  we  had  returned  to  the  village,  eaten  our 
supper,  and  watched  the  camp  fire's  flames  die 
down  in  the  black  ashes,  the  young  people  rose  to 


g         VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      75 

their  feet  preparatory  to  retiring  to  rest  in  the 
Common  House. 

Toko  and  Kadu  and  Fagoda  each  took  posses- 
sion of  his  woman. 

Winawa  sat  apart  by  herself,  as  if  waiting; 
while  the  others  cast  inquisitive  and  suggestive 
glances  from  her  to  me. 

I  sat  down  by  her  side. 

A  shiver  ran  through  her,  but  she  neither  moved 
away  nor  returned  my  caress. 

Then  came  one  whom  they  call  "the  great 
hunter,"  and  stood  in  front  of  her,  glaring  at  her. 

When  I  rose  to  follow  her  to  the  Common 
House,  he  obstructed  my  passage,  at  the  same 
time  seizing  Winawa  by  the  arm  and  pushing  her 
behind  him. 

Determined  not  to  be  thus  thwarted,  I  thrust 
him  aside  and  sprang  towards  the  door;  but 
instantly  the  young  men  crowded  round  me, 
murmuring  threateningly. 

Toko  hastily  approached,  touched  my  arm, 
and  said  gravely :  "No  stranger  may  sleep  in  the 
Common  House!" 

Infuriated,  I  hurried  home  to  Tongu,  cursing 
this  tribal  instinct  which  had  twice  robbed  me 
of  the  woman  whom  I  had  chosen,  and  who  had 
herself  chosen  me. 


CHAPTER     SIX 

ONE   dark   night   Tongu,    Toko,    and    I 
paddled  out  with   the   canoe  to  catch 
flying-fish.     It  was  the  King's  favour- 
ite dish,  and  with  it  I  had  decided  to  pay  my 
royal  tax.     Besides,  I  had  an  ulterior  motive. 

While  Tongu  held  the  oars,  Toko  and  I  waved 
our  torches — made  of  cocoa-nut  fibre  tied  to  long 
bamboo  poles — high  in  the  air,  making  the  rays 
of  light  gleam  and  dance  over  the  dark  waters. 

The  flying-fish,  their  wet  wing-fins  glittering 
like  silver,  left  the  water  half  hypnotized  by  the 
light,  and  rushed  straight  towards  the  smoking 
red  flame. 

We  transfixed  them  in  their  flight,  killing  them 
quickly  one  by  one,  until  we  were  exhausted  with 
slaughter.  There  were  many  more  than  we  could 
deal  with,  although  we  were  all  experts  and  never 
failed  to  kill  with  each  thrust. 

Next  morning  I  again  ransacked  my  sea-chest, 
and  chose  an  old  umbrella  and  a  battered  straw 
hat  for  His  Majesty. 

76 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      77 

For  a  long  time  I  was  puzzled  to  know  what 
to  give  the  critical  Wahuja,  who  is  the  King's 
adviser,  and  must  therefore  be  conciliated.  At 
last  I  found  a  pair  of  spectacles  which  had  be- 
longed to  my  uncle  in  Java.  The  fact  of  Wahuj  a 
being  shortsighted  would  make  the  gift  specially 
acceptable.  Long  White-Ears  would,  so  to  speak, 
recover  the  eyes  of  youth. 

We  presented  ourselves  all  three  before  the 
King  late  in  the  afternoon,  Toko  carrying  the 
tribute  in  Tongu's  largest  basket,  and  I,  the  gifts. 
Wahuj  a,  whether  by  instinct  or  from  information 
received  concerning  our  last  night's  fishing  ex- 
pedition, saw  us  first,  and  came  sneaking  down 
from  the  verandah.  He  drew  us  aside  under  the 
shade  of  a  pisang  palm,  where  we  could  not  be 
observed  from  the  house. 

I  greeted  him  native  fashion,  telling  him  of  my 
errand.  He  glanced  thoughtfully  at  the  basket, 
and  stood  chewing  his  toothless  gums  without 
speaking. 

Then  I  produced  the  spectacles.  Might  I  be 
allowed  to  give  him  back  the  eyes  of  his  youth1? 
I  put  them  on  myself  to  show  how  to  use  them. 
He  took  them  cautiously  and  sniffed  them,  jump- 
ing back  shuddering  when  his  nose  happened  to 
touch  the  glass. 


78      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

"It  is  petrified  water!"  said  I  in  explanation. 
He  trembled  with  emotion  all  the  time  he  was 
putting  them  over  his  nose  and  behind  his  ears. 
Toko  and  Tongu  were  also  frightened,  and  with- 
drew to  a  safe  distance. 

He  peered  up  in  the  air  with  mouth  wide  open, 
but  could  see  nothing  at  all.  "Fog!"  he 
ejaculated,  wrinkling  his  nose  disapprovingly. 

I  then  held  my  hand  close  before  his  eyes.  He 
gave  a  violent  start  when  he  saw  it  clearly,  and 
suddenly  his  loose  old  mouth  grinned,  until  the 
corners  nearly  reached  his  hairy  white  ears. 

He  looked  towards  a  pisang  leaf  which  hung 
down  just  in  front  of  him:  the  same  marvellous 
result!  He  stared  at  Tongu's  beard:  extra- 
ordinary ! 

"Witchcraft!"  he  muttered  solemnly,  remov- 
ing the  spectacles  carefully,  and  examining  them 
minutely  from  every  possible  angle,  fingering  the 
lenses  with  shaking  fingers. 

He  then  turned  his  right  ear  towards  me,  a 
habit  of  his  when  giving  audience.  "What  do 
you  desire  of  me,  White  Man4?"  he  whined,  once 
more  assuming  the  mask  of  diplomacy. 

"O  most  wise  and  mighty  Wahuja,  thou  who 
hast  the  King's  ear!"  I  began,  according  to  a 
formula  supplied  by  Tongu. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS       79 

"Is  it  a  woman  you  want*?"  he  broke  in  im- 
patiently. 

I  forgot  my  formula  and  said  frankly,  that  I 
was  a  young  man  even  as  the  other  bachelors. 
How  was  it  possible  for  me  to  buy  a  wife  of 
Mahura's  famous  race  when  I  was  not  allowed 
to  choose  in  the  same  way  as  the  others'?  In 
short:  I  wanted  permission  to  sleep  in  the 
Common  House.  And  now  that  I  was  paying 
a  handsome  tribute,  the  great  Wahuja  could  not 
refuse  to  lighten  the  King's  eyes  and  enlarge  his 
heart  towards  me;  so  that  I,  who  desired  nothing 
better  than  to  live  and  die  on  this  happy  island, 
with  the  King's  foot  on  my  neck,  might  be  ac- 
corded the  same  right  as  the  meanest  man  among 
the  King's  subjects. 

Wahuja  again  fell  to  chewing  his  gums. 
He  scratched  both  his  hairy  ears.  He  concen- 
trated all  his  intelligence  upon  this  difficult 
problem.  Tongu  ventured  the  humble  sugges- 
tion that  his  chickens  were  Wahuja's,  and  his 
cocoa-nuts,  whilst  his  house  was  built  expressly 
that  Wahuja  should  tear  it  down,  if  it  pleased 
him  to  do  so. 

Wahuja  waved  him  angrily  away,  and,  turn- 
ing to  me,  touched  my  clothes  with  his  stiff  fingers. 
"White  Man,"  he  said  reproachfully,  "why  do 


8o      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

you  conceal  all  your  skin  with  a  loincloth  over 
your  whole  body*?" 

"It  is  the  custom  of  white  men." 

"You  wish  to  be  one  of  us,  yet  you  cover 
yourself  up  like  a  tortoise  or  a  vampire  bat.  Do 
you  bear  the  tortoise's  burden1?  Do  you  fetch 
your  food  in  the  trees  like  a  vampire  bat1?" 

I  stood  silent,  covered  with  confusion. 

"No  decent  Mahura  man  conceals  his  skin!" 

"Then  will  I  discard  my  covering,  O  most  wise 
Wahuja!" 

The  old  diplomat  had  not  expected  such  an 
accommodating  answer;  it  took  him  by  surprise. 
But  after  a  moment's  thought  he  again  took  up 
the  cudgels. 

"Your  back  is  reported  to  be  red  and  cold  like 
that  of  a  pig!"  he  whined. 

I  hinted  modestly  that  I  was  born  thus. 
Should  not  a  decent  man  be  proud  of  his  skin? 

Wahuja  ignored  my  subtle  use  of  his  own  logic. 

"No  decent  Mahura  man,"  he  objected,  "has 
a  red  skin.  Nothing  good  can  come  from  a  red 
skin!" 

Then  seeing  that  I  was  losing  patience,  he 
remembered  the  spectacles  and  added  in  a  cau- 
tious whisper :  "But  that  which  has  been  denied 


I          VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      81 

you  by  your  father  and  mother, 1  you  can  of  course 
take  from  the  earth !" 

This  was  utterly  beyond  me,  but  Tongu  under- 
stood immediately.  "I  will  paint  you  with  the 
brown  earth,"  2  he  said  joyfully;  "you  will  be 
as  handsome  as  a  king." 

Wahuja  turned  his  back;  he  had  spoken,  and 
considered  the  matter  closed.  It  was  an  unsatis- 
factory result.  I'd  be  hanged  if  I  would  paint 
my  skin,  to  be  a  laughing  stock  for  the  whole  of 
this  brown  village.  As  soon  as  the  King  was 
shown  our  gifts  he  became  wild  with  joy.  He 
at  once  put  the  straw  hat  on  his  head  and  opened 
the  umbrella  in  the  way  I  taught  him,  keeping 
it  up  during  the  whole  audience.  The  court  ap- 
plauded vociferously,  the  women  and  children  in 
the  doorway  mumbling  wide-eyed  their  eternal, 
"Ai!  Ai!" 

The  King  announced  that  there  would  be  a 
feast  that  evening — we  already  knew  about  it, 
and  had  chosen  the  day  on  purpose — to  celebrate 
the  building  of  the  new  fence  round  his  cocoa-nut 
grove.  He  invited  all  three  of  us  to  be  present. 

We     were     given     betel     and     cocoa-nuts. 

1i.e.  at  birth. 

2  A  kind  of  red  ochre  paint. 


82       VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

Just  as  we  were  finishing,  we  saw  Wahuja  come 
creeping  forward,  spectacles  in  hand,  to 
hold  a  council  with  the  King,  who  sat  arrayed 
in  straw  hat  and  umbrella  listening  absent- 
mindedly. 

Whilst  we  lounged  about  waiting  for  the  feast 
to  begin,  we  saw  the  dancing-girls  arrive  from  the 
village  dressed  in  all  their  finery,  bearing  arm- 
fuls  of  flowers. 

I  recognized  several  of  the  girls  from  my  kawa 
debauch  and  nodded  to  them.  Among  them  was 
Winawa,  who  looked  longingly  at  me,  hiding  the 
eagerness  of  her  stare  under  her  half-lowered  eye- 
lids. 

We  followed  them  at  a  distance,  and  watched 
them  disappear  behind  the  royal  residence,  where 
the  Queen  squatted,  presiding  over  the  toilet 
preparations,  surrounded  with  cocoa-nut  shells 
containing  all  manner  of  dyes  and  cosmetics, 
the  names  of  the  majority  of  which  I  was  igno- 
rant. 

The  girls  donned  their  necklaces  and  bracelets, 
stuck  flowers  in  their  hair  and  ears,  showed  their 
costumes  off  to  one  another,  patting  here  and  pull- 
ing there,  cackling  and  quarreling,  shrieking  and 
striking  themselves  on  the  thighs  with  ecstasy. 
One  by  one  the  Queen  called  them  before  her. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      83 

She  painted  them  on  the  back,  breast,  and  neck 
with  swift,  sure  strokes  according  to  their  rank, 
beauty,  or  personality,  each  girl  following  the 
movements  of  the  brush  closely,  and  smiling  or 
sulking  according  to  the  treatment  she  received. 

One  or  two  of  them  complained  bitterly,  and 
stamped  their  feet  on  the  ground,  but  the  Queen 
took  not  the  slightest  notice,  merely  giving  each 
one  a  shove  in  the  back  when  she  was  finished,  and 
calling  the  name  of  the  next. 

I  saw  one  perky  little  dark-eyed  wench  rub  the 
wet  colouring  off  her  breast,  whilst  a  companion 
painted  the  brilliant  design  she  desired  on  her 
back. 

Milawa,  whom  I  supposed  so  shy  and  retir- 
ing, made  a  fearful  to-do.  She  showed  herself 
to  be  a  vain  minx,  shrieking  at  the  top  of  her 
voice  for  "sun."  She  wanted  a  flaming  sun  on 
each  breast.  At  last  the  Queen  lost  her  temper, 
stood  up  and  gave  her  such  a  kick  in  the  fleshy 
part  of  the  back  that  she  tripped  over  and  fell 
down. 

General  hilarity,  while  Milawa  rolled  about  in 
the  grass,  whimpering  and  kicking  her  legs  in  the 
air  with  temper. 

We  hid  behind  the  new  bamboo  fence,  the 
occasion  for  the  feast,  and  saw  everything  through 


84      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

the  stakes.  When  the  Queen  had  finished  and 
rose  to  inspect  her  work,  we  fled. 

The  invited  guests,  consisting  of  the  bearded 
elders  and  other  women  and  men  of  the  village, 
arrived  and  seated  themselves  in  a  circle  round 
the  tamman,  J  inside  which  was  the  royal  orchestra 
with  their  aiwa-drums.  The  girls  came  forward 
from  behind  the  house  in  a  delighted  procession, 
two  by  two,  each  holding  a  bouquet  in  her  up- 
raised right  hand. 

They  were  greeted  with  shouts  of  "Ai!  Ai!"; 
the  mothers  all  craning  their  necks  to  watch  their 
daughters,  pruning  themselves  with  self-satisfac- 
tion. Then  the  girls  let  themselves  go. 

They  seated  themselves  in  two  circles,  one 
within  the  other,  and  suddenly  began  turning  their 
bodies  from  the  hips  upwards,  vigourously  from 
side  to  side,  at  the  same  time  waving  their  bou- 
quets in  the  air. 

As  soon  as  the  tom-toms  began,  they  sang  slowly 
and  monotonously  the  following  song : 

"We  are  little  parrots ! 
Behold  this  green  parrot ! 
Behold  my  hair ! 
Behold  my  eyes! 
1  Dancing-place. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      85 

Hear  my  happy  shriek! 
Behold  this  green  parrot! 
We  are  little  parrots ! 
From  Mahura — from  Mahura!" 

Again  and  again  they  sang  the  same  monoto- 
nous refrain,  but  with  each  repetition  the  speed 
quickened,  the  small  tireless  drums,  resembling 
hour-glasses,  beating  faster  and  faster.  After  a 
while  the  girls  sprang  into  a  kneeling  position, 
and  keeping  the  most  perfect  time  they  hopped 
right  round  the  circle  on  their  bare  knees,  the  two 
chains  revolving  in  opposite  directions. 

Suddenly  with  a  shriek  they  bounded  to  their 
feet  and  began  leaping  backwards  and  forwards, 
kicking  out  their  strong  round  legs  to  either  side, 
their  arms  waving  their  bouquets,  their  heads  jerk- 
ing violently  to  and  fro.  The  movement  became 
more  and  more  frenzied ;  at  last  it  seemed  one  mad 
whirl  of  bare  brown  flesh,  of  which  the  separate 
details  were  indistinguishable.  My  brain  swam. 
I  fell  back  dizzy  and  fainting.  The  natives,  on 
the  contrary,  were  delighted,  intoxicated.  They 
all  began  to  sing;  old  women  rocked  on  their  stiff 
hips,  rheumatic  old  men  nodded  their  heads  vio- 
lently, keeping  time  as  they  croaked  the  melody. 
All  the  audience  joined  in,  sitting  on  their 
haunches,  jerking  their  trembling  arms  and  legs 


86   VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

to  the  music,  their  eyes  starting  out  of  their  heads, 
their  breasts  heaving  with  emotion.  Even  the 
King,  dressed  in  his  clothes  of  state,  the  battered 
straw  hat  upon  his  head,  beat  time  with 
his  newly  acquired  umbrella,  and  was  thoroughly 
happy. 

Tongu  and  Toko  had  succumbed  long  since  to 
the  all-prevailing  influence.  At  last,  in  spite  of 
myself,  I  too  began;  my  blood  beat  in  my  neck, 
my  breath  grew  short  and  painful,  my  legs 
wobbled  and  trembled  beneath  me.  Finally  I 
let  myself  go  as  completely  and  utterly  as  all  the 
rest.  .  .  . 

Suddenly,  without  the  slightest  warning,  a 
shriek  filled  the  air,  a  wild,  horrible  cry  which 
burst  simultaneously  from  each  girl's  throat.  It 
rang  clear  and  true  in  spite  of  its  abandon,  pierc- 
ing my  very  soul.  Even  now  it  rings  in  my  ears. 
The  shriek  died  away  in  a  long-drawn-out  wail 
like  that  of  a  dog  starving  in  the  dark. 

It  was  the  dance's  death-cry.  When  I  re- 
covered my  senses  and  was  able  to  see  once  more, 
the  women  lay  piled  together  in  a  heaving  heap, 
panting  and  exhausted,  with  convulsive  shudders 
shaking  their  limbs,  succeeded  finally  by  complete 
collapse.  To  all  appearances  they  lay  lifeless 
and  dead. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS       87 

Now  the  unmarried  men  sprang  forward. 
Each  sought  the  woman  who  at  the  time  be- 
longed to  him,  leaving  the  few  unmated — among 
whom  I  saw,  to  my  great  joy,  Winawa- — disconso- 
late to  look  after  themselves. 

In  my  excited  condition,  I  was  strongly  tempted 
to  rush  forward  and  claim  her  for  myself,  but, 
realizing  the  fatality  of  such  a  course,  I  restrained 
myself. 

I  joined  Tongu  and  the  other  bearded  ones 
who  were  watching  the  women  carried  down  to 
the  strand;  saw  each  man  help  his  girl  remove 
her  soiled  skirt  and  faded  flowers ;  saw  him  bathe 
and  rub  her  tired,  steaming  limbs,  each  man's  sole 
thought  being  to  help  his  loved  one  to  recover. 
But  when  I  saw  Winawa  compelled  to  do  every- 
thing alone,  without  a  helping  hand,  I  swore  a 
mighty  oath  that  I  would  accept  Wahuja's  con- 
ditions, and  become  as  brown  and  as  naked  as  the 
most  respectable  Mahura  man  on  the  island. 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 

I  WAS  now  a  full-blown  citizen  of  Mahura 
Village.  I  paid  the  King's  tax,  took  my 
share  in  the  work  of  the  bachelors,  and  slept 
in  the  Common  House.  Winawa  was  no  longer 
compelled  to  deny  me  anything.  I  was  now 
brown  as  cinnamon,  and  wore  a  bright  scarlet 
loincloth,  which  Tongu  took  great  pains  to  weave. 

Tongu  kept  a  strict  look-out  that  I  was  not 
cheated  of  any  of  the  rights  belonging  to  every 
young  Mahura  man  of  good  family. 

A  few  of  the  young  men  disapproved  of  me  as 
a  stranger,  and  tried  to  raise  laughter  at  the  ex- 
pense of  my  skin,  which  was  inclined  to  run  in 
wet  weather,  and  required  periodical  renewal. 
They  even  tried  to  boycott  me,  but  the  women 
were  on  my  side  and  protected  me  jealously. 
Toko  was,  as  formerly,  my  sworn  and  trusty 
friend,  always  at  my  heels  during  the  day,  and 
sleeping  as  close  as  possible  to  me  at  night,  a 
habit  more  flattering  than  pleasant. 

In  the  Common  House  there  are  no  reserved 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      89 

places;  each  one  has  his  mat,  and  at  night  places 
it  in  position  on  the  bare,  spacious  bamboo  floor. 
The  Common  House  is  a  large,  oblong  building 
thatched  with  palm  leaves.  The  two  side  walls 
do  not  reach  right  up  to  the  roof,  but  leave  a 
long,  narrow  opening  about  two  feet  wide,  which, 
however,  is  sheltered  from  storm  and  rain  by  the 
projecting  thatch.  The  openings  served  as 
ventilators,  without  which  we  should  certainly 
have  been  stifled,  crowded  together  as  we  were. 
Even  as  it  was  the  air  was  often  almost  unsupport- 
able. 

There  was  always  a  great  deal  of  shoving  and 
quarreling  at  the  entrance  each  night  before  we 
went  to  bed.  It  was  caused  by  the  scramble  to  get 
in  first  and  secure  the  best  sleeping-places,  namely, 
those  farthest  removed  from  the  door,  where 
one  was  constantly  in  danger  of  being  trodden 
on  by  any  one  wishing  to  go  outside  during  the 
night. 

I  myself  preferred  to  lie  nearest  the  door,  close 
against  the  wall,  but  all  the  others  made  a  rush 
for  the  corner  places  at  the  farthest  end  of  the 
building,  where  it  is  most  sheltered. 

It  is  extraordinary  how  quickly  and  quietly 
the  woman  question  is  arranged.  I  have  never 


90      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

yet  observed  fighting  or  noisy  quarreling  in  this 
connection,  men  and  girls  pairing  off,  by  common 
consent,  quietly  and  unostentatiously.  They  do 
not  change  partners  as  often  as  might  be  expected. 
As  a  rule,  the  matter  is  settled  for  the  woman  from 
the  very  first  day  of  her  entrance  into  the  Common 
House,  into  which  she  is  admitted  upon  attaining 
the  age  of  puberty.  The  young  girl  is  im- 
mediately surrounded  by  unattached  youths  of 
about  her  own  age,  swarming  and  buzzing  round 
her  like  bees.  Flattered  and  pleased  with  the 
attention  shown  her,  she  looks  round  the  gathering 
and  quickly  chooses  one  to  be  her  partner,  in 
what  to  her  is  the  most  serious  business  in  life. 
The  rejected  suitors  then  retire,  and  the  matter  is 
finished. 

Having  chosen  her  mate,  she  sleeps  on  his 
mat  in  the  Common  House  until  one  of  two 
changes  occurs.  If  the  connection  leads  to  strong 
infatuation,  so  that  the  man  becomes  afraid  of 
losing  her — for  example,  by  the  advent  of  a  new 
and  dangerous  rival — he  hastens  to  buy  her  from 
her  father;  in  other  words,  to  marry  her,  upon 
which  they  both  remove  from  the  Common  House, 
where  every  one  has  an  equal  right.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  one  or  other  of  the  parties  does  not 
come  up  to  expectations;  or  if  the  man  cannot  or 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      91 

will  not  pay  the  price  which  for  the  sake  of  her 
family  and  the  honour  of  her  totem  l  is  demanded 
for  her,  then  a  respectable  girl,  knowing  the  re- 
spect due  to  her,  gives  her  laggard  suitor  the  cold 
shoulder  and  turns  elsewhere.  This  she  does 
by  merely  deserting  her  customary  place  at  the 
evening  meal,  and  seating  herself  by  the  side  of 
her  new  mate,  whom  she  has  chosen,  possibly  for 
his  appearance,  possibly  on  account  of  his  family 
and  fortune. 

If  the  new  one  acquiesces,  he  remains  seated 
and  all  is  well.  Should  he,  however,  object  to 
his  new  would-be  spouse,  he  rises  and  goes  away 
to  another  place.  The  effect  upon  the  girl  of 
this  unchivalrous  treatment  is  either  to  cause 
perhaps  a  lengthening  of  the  face,  or  else  an  angry 
muttering,  and  tearing  of  the  grass.  That  is 
all.  She  soon  finds  a  new  partner  somewhere 
else,  unless  the  rejected  suitor  makes  things  nasty 
for  her  in  some  way  or  other,  which,  however,  is 
considered  very  bad  form,  denoting  a  treacherous 
character. 

Affairs  are  thus  managed  among  the  more  sensi- 
ble and  decent  young  people,  who  possess  a  certain 

1  The  natives  divide  themselves,  according  to  rules  as  yet 
unknown,,  into  family  groups,  each  of  which  has  its  own  dis- 
tinguishing mark  (totem),  e.g.  a  certain  bird.  Members  of  the 
same  family  group  may  not  intermarry. 


92       VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

amount  of  proper  pride.  But  it  may,  of  course, 
also  happen  that  a  girl  sticks  to  her  first  choice, 
regardless  of  his  inability  to  buy  her;  unless  he  is 
more  sensible  than  she,  and  gives  her  up  in  order  to 
marry  a  woman  whose  price  is  more  in  accord 
with  his  fortune.  If  not,  it  cannot  be  denied 
that  an  illegitimate  connection  is  established  which 
can  have  unfortunate  consequences. 

Things  may  be  all  right  for  a  time ;  but  one  day 
her  father  becomes  impatient  and  informs  his 
daughter  that  he  cannot  wait  any  longer  for  the 
capital  which  she  represents  to  materialize.  She 
must  make  her  decision. 

The  poor  suitor  presents  himself  in  despera- 
tion to  make  the  best  offer  he  can,  only  of 
course  to  meet  with  an  uncompromising  refusal, 
at  the  same  time  having  the  purchase  price  flung 
in  his  teeth. 

Every  well-bred  Mahura  girl  would  then  bow 
to  the  inevitable  and  do  her  duty.  She  allows 
her  poor  suitor  to  disappear  out  of  her  life,  taking 
with  him  that  of  which  no  one  can  deprive  him, 
and  chooses  a  new  mate,  this  time  with  her  brain 
instead  of  with  her  heart,  aided  perhaps  in  her 
choice  by  her  parents. 

Sometimes,    however,    things    do    not    go    so 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS       93 

smoothly.  I  know  one  case — Toko  told  me  about 
it — in  which,  to  appease  her  father,  the  girl  dis- 
missed her  fiance  and  chose  another  suitor.  But 
the  latter  was  merely  a  dummy,  whom  they  had 
persuaded  to  act  the  part  of  lover  before  the  public 
at  the  evening  meal  round  the  fire.  At  night  he 
disappeared,  and  the  girl  continued  sleeping  on 
her  old  suitor's  mat,  a  fact  which  could  never 
reach  the  ears  of  the  father,  for  all  that  happens  in 
the  Common  House  is  most  jealously  guarded  by 
its  inmates. 

The  new  arrangement  worked  successfully  for 
a  while,  but  when  the  latest  official  fiance,  who 
was  in  all  respects  a  suitable  match,  made  no 
effort  to  claim  the  girl  for  his  wife,  the  old  man 
again  took  his  daughter  to  task. 

Again  she  posed  as  the  obedient  daughter; 
again  she  obeyed  her  father's  commands,  dis- 
missing the  second  suitor — she  could  not  waste 
all  her  youth  in  the  Common  House,  where  she 
would  soon  be  one  of  the  eldest — and  choosing 
a  third,  also  a  good  match.  But  he  was  only  an- 
other dummy,  playing  the  part  for  the  sake  of 
his  friend,  the  poor  suitor,  and  the  girl  still  slept 
regularly  on  her  lover's  mat. 

And  so  it  went  on,  until  at  last  the  father  was 
forced  to  the  conclusion  that  his  daughter  was 


94 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 


less  attractive  than  he  had  thought,  for  none  of 
her  suitors  offered  to  buy  her.  Since  there  was 
nothing  wrong  with  the  family  totem,  he  rea- 
soned, it  must  be  the  girl  who  had  some  hidden 
fau|.t. 

After  a  painful  cross-examination,  the  only 
material  result  of  which  was  a  good  thrashing 
for  the  girl  in  revenge  for  his  disappointment, 
the  old  man  made  the  best  of  a  bad  job,  and 
resolutely  lowered  her  price,  announcing  to  all 
and  sundry  that  he  was  now  selling  his  daughter, 
so  to  speak,  at  cost  price. 

Again  a  period  of  waiting.  When  the  old  man 
saw  the  girl  still  remaining  on  his  hands  he  re- 
signed himself  to  a  certain  loss,  and,  as  a  last 
resort,  of  his  own  accord  approached  the  poor 
suitor. 

The  latter  stood  willingly  and  honourably  by 
his  original  offer;  they  became  man  and  wife, 
and,  according  to  Toko,  lived  happily  ever  after- 
wards. 

This  story  of  true  love,  which  fully  deserves 
to  be  related  in  a  much  more  detailed  form — 
perhaps  I  shall  do  so  some  time  in  another  con- 
nection— had,  however,  a  sequel. 

I  fully  believe  what  was  said,  that  they  were 
very  happy — obstinate  people,  on  the  whole,  are 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS   95 

happier  than  others — but  one  thing  is  certain, 
they  never  had  a  child :  for  now  that  it  was  desir- 
able, it  was  found  impossible.  The  reason  for 
this  melancholy  fact  lies  in  the  use  of  a  certain 
practice,  fully  permissible  for  an  unmarried  native 
girl,  but  which  among  civilized  people  is  con- 
sidered a  serious  crime,  and  punished  severely, 
regardless  of  the  stage  of  development  at  which 
the  act  is  committed.  A  case  of  such  a  nature  as 
the  foregoing  is,  however,  a  rare  exception;  as  a 
rule,  affairs  relating  to  the  matrimonial  market 
run  smoothly  and  respectably. 

When  the  door  is  shut,  impenetrable  darkness 
reigns  in  the  Common  House,  and  in  spite  of 
the  aperture  in  the  walls  the  air  becomes  heavy 
and  stifling.  Everything  is  quiet;  a  medley  of 
little  sounds,  subdued  and  intangible,  rises  from 
the  living  carpet  of  hot-breathing,  warm-blooded, 
sensuous  bodies  covering  the  floor. 

A  foot  scrapes,  a  mat  rustles,  and  like  an  under- 
tone comes  the  deep  purring  guttural  whereby 
the  natives  express  their  natural  and  unrestrained 
joie  de  vivre.  The  whole  resembles  a  gigantic 
dovecot  in  the  twilight,  before  the  birds  have 
fallen  asleep;  or  a  fowl-house  at  dawn,  just  before 
the  youngest  cock  begins  to  flap  his  wings  and 
crow. 


96      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

Sometimes,  but  very  rarely,  is  heard  an  angry 
expostulation,  caused  by  an  accidental  kick  or  the 
like,  but  it  is  immediately  hissed  into  silence. 
And  when  any  one  snores  so  loudly  that  he  wakes 
others,  he  is  thrust  relentlessly  outside  the  door 
and  left  to  sleep  in  the  open.  He  whom  they 
call  "the  great  hunter"  exercises  self-assumed  and 
undisputed  authority  over  all.  He  is  of  the 
family  of  Wahuja,  the  most  exalted  in  the 
village. 

Contrary  to  public  opinion,  and  to  my  own 
former  belief,  the  natives,  whom  we  so  rashly 
label  "savages,"  are  neither  savage  nor  unbridled 
in  the  expression  of  their  passions.  Quite  the 
reverse  in  this  case,  their  impulses,  although 
strong,  being  quickly  exhausted ;  as  befitting  free, 
healthy  creatures  from  whom  no  veil  hides 
Nature's  naked  breast. 

One  day,  as  we  were  walking  past  the  outer- 
most huts  in  the  village,  on  our  way  home  from 
work  in  the  fields,  Winawa  stopped  and  listened, 
looking  fixedly  up  in  the  air.  I  could  hear  no 
sound,  but  she  seized  my  arm  excitedly,  and  began 
calling  in  the  direction  of  a  bread-fruit  tree 
situated  alongside  her  father's  hut,  where  she 
lived  as  a  child. 

When  the  others  had  gone  on,  leaving  us  two 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAY0       97 

behind,  she  again  called  out  in  a  supplicating 
voice:  "My  bewa,  my  bewa!" 

Receiving  no  reply,  she  approached  nearer  to 
the  hut,  still  grasping  my  arm,  as  if  wishing  to 
show  me  something,  all  the  while  gazing  towards 
the  tree  and  emitting  the  deep,  native  jodelling 
call. 

There  came  a  sudden  disturbance  in  the  air; 
down  from  a  high  branch  dropped  a  vampire  bat 
with  its  wings  closed.  When  it  had  fallen  half- 
way to  the  ground  it  opened  the  wings  with  a 
jerk  and  balanced  hovering  just  above  Winawa, 
who  held  out  her  arms  towards  it,  laughing  and 
talking  to  it  with  all  the  tender  words  she  knew, 
her  eyes  shining  with  happiness  and  emotion. 

It  remained,  however,  hovering  over  her,  wrig- 
gling its  snout  and  opening  its  mouth  so  that  its 
white  teeth  shone  in  her  face.  At  intervals  it 
turned  its  head  and  fastened  its  dark,  clever  eyes 
on  me. 

Winawa  signalled  to  me  to  retire,  and  scarcely 
had  I  obeyed  her,  when  the  creature  flew  down 
and  settled  in  her  hair,  its  wings  flapping  affec- 
tionately about  her  ears. 

Her  whole  face  broke  into  a  smile,  she  clasped 
her  arms  round  the  bat,  lifted  it  carefully  down 
and  pressed  it  passionately  to  her  bosom. 


98      VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

Then  she  raised  the  hand  holding  the  banana 
straight  up  in  the  air  and  let  the  creature  crawl 
along  her  naked  arm  until  it  reached  the  fruit. 

It  seized  the  banana  with  a  quick  movement 
of  its  snout  and  ripped  the  peel  off  with  its  sharp, 
white  teeth,  still  hugging  her  arm  with  its  claws 
and  wings.  Then  it  crawled  down  again,  and 
held  its  mouth  containing  the  banana  towards 
her,  so  that  she  too  could  take  a  bite.  The  two 
thus  ate  from  either  end  until  their  lips  met. 

The  girl  took  the  bat  in  her  hands  and  threw 
it  from  her  like  a  ball  high  in  the  air,  at  the 
same  time  springing  with  supple  grace  to  her 
feet.  And  while  it  hung  flapping  above  her, 
she  began  to  play  tag  with  its  wings. 

It  tore  itself  loose;  it  snapped  playfully  at  her; 
but  the  moment  I  approached,  it  flew  away  and 
would  not  return. 

"My  bewa  doesn't  like  you!"  she  said  sorrow- 
fully, looking  angrily  at  me.  At  last  she  came 
away,  but  turned  round  several  times  and  called 
to  it  as  long  as  it  remained  visible. 

"It  is  angry  with  you,  because  I  have  neglected 
it !"  she  said,  almost  in  tears.  She  was  silent  and 
depressed  the  whole  evening. 

From  that  day  Winawa  was  displeased  with 
me;  perhaps  she  divined  my  feelings  with  regard 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      99 

to  the  creature — which  is  considered  holy  by  the 
natives.  To  me  it  was  nothing  but  a  large-sized 
bat,  and  the  disgust  and  nausea  which  I  felt  on 
seeing  its  snout  touch  her  mouth,  as  they  devoured 
the  same  banana  together,  were  well-nigh  im- 
possible for  me  to  conceal. 

When  I  told  Tongu  about  it,  he  said  it  was 
quite  the  usual  thing  for  young  girls  to  tame  the 
young  bats  so  that  they  would  eat  out  of  their 
hands.  Once  tamed,  the  creature  would  always 
answer  its  mistress's  call. 


CHAPTER     EIGHT 


**F  •  'iHERE  has  been  a  feast  at  the  King's 

House,"  Toko,  who  always  seemed  to 

JL     know  everything,  announced  one  day. 

"What  was  it  for1?" 

"To  celebrate  a  virgin  initiation;  the  youngest 
of  his  daughters  has  got  her  skirt.  She  left  the 
Women's  House  yesterday  after  having  her  body 
tattoed  and  her  teeth  stained.  Her  name  is  Ali, 
and  this  evening  she  becomes  one  of  us." 

Just  before  sunset  we  all  assembled  round  the 
fire  in  expectant  silence.  Thinking  of  this  new 
girl  who  would  soon  belong  to  us,  we  threw  out 
our  chests,  and  scowled  fiercely  at  one  another, 
each  man  seeking  to  spread  himself  out  so  as  to 
leave  a  vacant  place  by  his  side. 

The  women  were  all  displeased.  They  sat 
with  sour  expressions,  snapping  sulkily  at  their 
cavaliers.  One  or  two  of  them  looked  positively 
anxious. 

Suddenly  the  space  between  two  of  the  farther- 
most huts  was  lighted  by  a  clear,  shining  ray  from 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     101 

the  setting  sun,  throwing  into  glowing  silhouette 
a  soft,  girlish  form  with  high,  firm  bosom. 

I  recognized  her  immediately — the  charming 
little  thing  that  stared  at  me  from  the  doorway  at 
my  first  royal  audience,  and  was  removed  by  her 
mother  for  smiling  at  me  and  answering  my  nod. 
She  came  forward  slowly,  her  hands  clasped 
behind  her  back,  her  head  shyly  lowered,  walking 
between  Wahuja  and  an  elderly  woman,  her 
mother.  The  loincloth  to  which  she  was  so  un- 
used irritated  and  impeded  the  movements  of  her 
legs. 

Presently  when  she  drew  nearer  and  saw  all 
eyes  fixed  upon  her,  her  soft,  plastic  mouth 
stretched  in  a  wide,  forced  smile,  intended  to 
show  off  her  badge  of  maidenhood,  her  splendid 
brown  teeth. 

"Ai !  Ai !"  the  men  shouted  admiringly,  while 
the  women  rocked  with  envy. 

Ali's  head  was  the  most  beautiful  shape  imagin- 
able, a  perfect  oval ;  her  hair  was  cut  quite  short, 
leaving  innumerable  tiny,  dark  curls  covering  her 
temples. 

Her  ears  were  small  and  round,  and  set  close 
to  the  head;  her  eyebrows  formed  a  faint,  light 
crescent  above  her  bright  young  eyes,  which  shone 


102     VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

with  pleasure  and  expectation  at  the  thought  of 
the  new  life  about  to  begin. 

About  her  neck  she  wore  two  chains  of  the 
little  white  shells,  which  are  also  used  for  money, 
and  in  addition  a  large  white  circular  ornament 
— of  what  material  I  could  not  distinguish — on 
which  were  painted  figures. 

She  was  beautiful,  judged  even  by  European 
standards.  Remarkably  enough,  although  the 
native  idea  of  beauty  is  far  removed  from  the 
civilized  ideal,  they  nevertheless  accorded  the  girl 
a  full-hearted  appreciation. 

She  was  so  delighted  with  her  triumphant  debut 
that,  no  longer  content  with  merely  showing  her 
teeth,  she  gurgled  with  laughter,  her  soft,  innocent 
eyes  throwing  shyly  curious  glances  at  our  faces. 

"Ai!  Ai!"  So  we  expressed  our  admiration 
and  delight.  One  handed  her  necklaces;  another 
squeezed  her  firm,  round  arms;  Kadu  ran  his 
hand  down  her  downy  back  to  feel  its  smooth 
texture,  and  one  of  the  women  fingered  her  skirt, 
admiring  its  fine  weave  and  colour. 

The  tight  skirt  annoyed  Ali — totally  unused  to 
clothing  of  any  kind — and  she  made  a  quick,  im- 
pulsive gesture  to  tear  it  off.  Every  one  screamed 
with  laughter  as  her  mother  smacked  her  fingers 
and  pulled  the  skirt  down  again. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  103 

The  longer  I  gazed  upon  the  girl  the  more 
beautiful  I  found  her;  Winawa  was  old  and  ugly 
in  comparison.  The  latter,  who  had  never  for- 
given me  since  the  encounter  with  the  vampire 
bat,  and  obviously  intended  to  desert  me  as  soon 
as  she  could  secure  another  suitor,  nevertheless 
objected  to  being  deserted  first  and,  instinctively 
sensing  the  danger,  began  to  hiss  softly  under  her 
breath,  like  a  cat  preparing  to  defend  itself. 

Ali's  roving  eyes  fell  on  me:  they  grew  larger 
and  larger,  while  her  mouth  gaped  with  astonish- 
ment. She  recognized  my  face,  no  longer  red  and 
ridiculous,  but  brown  like  the  faces  of  her  own 
race.  And  my  white  loincloth1?  Transformed 
into  a  brown,  respectable  Mahura  skin,  together 
with  the  most  beautiful  scarlet  loincloth  imagin- 
able! 

Her  interest  in  me  was  observed  by  all,  and 
caused  general  dissatisfaction.  Kadu  placed  him- 
self between  us  that  she  might  admire  him  in- 
stead, but  she  stepped  aside,  and  finding  that 
failed  pushed  him  away  with  her  hands.  At  last 
she  could  restrain  her  curiosity  no  longer;  she 
came  right  up  to  me  and  asked:  "Are  you  the 
red  man  who  smiled  at  me  at  the  King's  House*?" 

"Yes !"  I  replied,  feeling  proud  and  happy  at 
the  distinction  accorded  me. 


104    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

She  again  looked  me  over  carefully,  then 
putting  out  her  forefinger  and  scratching  my 
shoulder  cautiously,  demanded  with  a  thunder- 
struck air:  "Have  you  grown  a  fresh  skin*?" 

"It  is  brown  earth!"  shouted  the  others  with 
one  accord,  throwing  into  the  explanation  as  much 
contempt  as  they  dared,  for  fear  of  Toko  and  the 
secret  power  of  my  gun,  which  was  in  Tongu's  safe 
keeping. 

"Ai!  Ai!"  cried  the  girl,  retreating  with  a 
doubtful  smile.  I  made  myself  as  fascinating  as 
possible,  contracting  my  muscles,  and  singing  a 
European  song  which  I  knew  from  experience  ap- 
pealed to  the  natives. 

In  spite  of  the  attempts  of  the  other  men  to 
drown  my  voice  with  their  guttural  jodelling, 
Ali  fixed  her  whole  attention  upon  me,  her  shining 
eyes  gazing  raptly  into  mine. 

I  was  filled  with  pride  at  the  consciousness  of 
my  superiority,  and  firmly  determined  to  make  her 
mine.  If  only  I  had  had  my  gun  with  me — but 
lacking  that  I  performed  a  feat  at  which  I  am  ex- 
pert, and  which  not  one  of  the  natives  could  imi- 
tate :  I  turned  a  series  of  somersaults  on  the  sand 
before  her  eyes. 

For  a  moment  she  was  terrified,  but  when  she 
saw  me  erect  and  smiling  before  her,  she  shouted 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  105 

a  delighted,  "Ai !  Ai !"  and  would  have  nothing 
further  to  do  with  the  others. 

The  girls  had  in  the  meanwhile  been  baking 
taro  bread  *  and  bread-fruit ;  and  picking  out  the 
small  packets  of  leaves  from  the  glowing  stones, 
gave  each  one  of  us  a  share. 

But  no  one  would  sit  down;  each  man  pressed 
as  closely  as  possible  to  Ali;  for  now  the  critical 
moment  had  arrived,  the  significance  of  which  her 
mother  had  taught  her. 

She  knew  that  she  must  seat  herself  by  the 
side  of  the  man  on  whose  mat  she  desired  to  sleep. 

In  consideration  of  the  fact  that  she  was  the 
King's  daughter,  although  only  by  a  secondary 
wife,  Wahuja  and  the  elderly  woman  awaited 
with  interest  this,  the  girl's  first,  unaided  choice. 

My  knowledge  of  women  told  me  that  my  best 
course  was  to  keep  in  the  background. 

And  I  was  quite  right.  At  first  she  was  piqued, 
half  surprised,  half  hurt,  at  my  being  the  only  one 
of  the  crowd  not  to  press  round  her.  But  when 
I  looked  at  her,  smiling  right  into  her  eyes  and 
nodding,  as  I  had  done  at  the  King's  House,  she 
immediately  understood.  She  returned  my  nod 

1  The  crushed  or  scraped  out  taro  root  is  mixed  with 
shredded  cocoa-nut,  made  into  loaves,  wrapped  in  leaves,  and 
finally  baked  between  red-hot  stones. 


106    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

in  the  same  manner  as  on  the  former  occasion;  and 
I  read  in  her  eyes  that  she  remembered,  and  was 
conscious  of  her  importance.  Just  let  her  mother 
try  putting  her  aside  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck 
now! 

She  pushed  out  of  her  way  all  those  who  stood 
between  us  pluming  themselves,  and  the  next 
instant  was  sitting  at  my  side,  leaning  trustfully 
against  my  shoulder. 

Wahuja  seemed  to  applaud  her  decision;  the 
old  reprobate  counted  on  securing  a  drink  by  tell- 
ing me  that  his  influence  brought  it  all  about ! 

Now  that  the  affair  was  settled,  the  others, 
realizing  nothing  more  could  be  done,  sat  down, 
uttering  deep  sighs  and  grunts  of  dissatisfaction. 

Winawa,  however,  in  spite  of  her  recent  in- 
difference, was  deeply  indignant.  She  hissed 
through  her  half-open  mouth;  then,  suddenly  com- 
ing to  a  quick  decision,  planted  herself  down  at 
Toko's  side,  putting  her  hand  deliberately  upon  his 
neck,  wanting  it  to  be  clearly  understood  that  she 
discarded  me  in  favour  of  a  man  regarded  by 
everybody  as  my  servant. 

Toko  fidgeted  uneasily,  not  because  he  did  not 
care  for  Winawa;  quite  the  reverse,  but  he  did 
not  wish  to  anger  me,  and  looked  questioningly  in 
my  direction.  When  I  smiled  reassuringly  he 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     107 

at  once  accepted  the  situation;  but  Winawa,  dis- 
appointed at  the  effect  of  her  experiment,  im- 
mediately became  less  affectionate  towards  him. 

The  night  that  followed — how  can  I  ever  de- 
scribe it,  Ali  was  heavenly,  laughable,  maddening, 
grave,  tearful,  and  sensual, — but  above  all, 
heavenly!  I  shall  content  myself  with  telling 
how  it  began.  On  our  way  to  the  Common 
House,  where  she  was  for  the  first  time  in  her  life 
about  to  sleep  on  a  man's  mat,  I  made  some 
admiring  remarks  about  the  beautiful  tattoo  de- 
sign on  her  stomach — a  flaming  sun  encircling 
her  navel,  which  was  painted  to  resemble  a  wide- 
open  eye.  To  this  she  answered,  beaming  with 
happiness  at  her  new,  adult  magnificence,  that 
that  was  a  mere  nothing.  "No — just  look  at 
this!" 

And  completely  devoid  of  shame,  as  eagerly 
as  a  European  girl  showing  off  a  new  dress  to  a 
bosom  friend,  she  tore  off  her  loincloth  so  that 
I  might  behold  the  brilliant  zigzag  patterns  which 
encircled  both  her  legs. 

She  was  extremely  proud  of  the  tattooing,  and 
stood  for  some  time  stroking  it  admiringly  with 
her  hands.  She  had  evidently  expected  much 
stronger  praise  from  me,  but  I  was  so  taken  aback 
that  I  could  scarcely  utter  a  word. 


io8  VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

So  commenced  that  wonderful  night — a  night 
which  bound  utter  strangers  together,  disregard- 
ing and  defying  so-called  civilization — bound  us 
together  for  the  whole  of  our  lives — for  the  whole 
of  her  life. 


CHAPTER     NINE 

WE  were  very  happy,  All  and  I. 
Each  night  she  fell  asleep  in  my 
arms;  each  morning  she  awoke  in 
the  same  passionate  embrace.  Her  dainty, 
melodious  voice  twittered  in  my  ears  the  whole 
day  long;  for  she  followed  me  about  like  a 
shadow,  watching  that  no  evil  should  befall  me. 
Many  a  time  she  seized  me  suddenly  by  the 
arm  and  drew  me  away  from  a  tree  under  which 
I  wished  to  rest,  exclaiming,  "Mumut!"  ]  Upon 
my  ridiculing  her  she  would  point  seriously  to 
one  or  another  unmistakable  sign.  This  or  that 
bird — the  incarnation  of  some  evil  spirit,  of  which 
she  knew  many — had  left  a  mark  upon  its 
branches.  Or  if  certain  birds  sat  in  the  tree  above 
our  heads,  she  would  invariably  chase  them  away 
with  stones  or  shouts. 

1  A  person's  "mumut"   is  anything  of  any  description  that 

the  person  leaves  behind,  e.  g.  expectoration,  footmarks,  etc. 

etc.     It  is  over  such  traces  that  a  spell  can  be  cast,  for  which 

reason  "mumut"  has  come  to  mean  witchcraft  in  general. 

IOQ 


no  VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

One  evening  as  we  stood  gazing  together  up 
into  the  dark,  glittering  sky,  a  shooting  star  sped 
gleaming  across  the  heavens.  A  loud  scream 
burst  from  her  lips,  and  she  flung  her  arms  round 
me,  her  body  trembling  with  terror. 

She  told  me  that  a  shooting  star  was  an  evil 
spirit  come  from  the  sky  to  fetch  its  chosen  victim 
for  sacrifice. 

Anything  she  valued  greatly  she  gave  im- 
mediately to  me,  and  was  not  satisfied  until  I 
had  divided  it  and  taken  by  far  the  larger  share. 
Her  shining,  expressive  eyes  reflected  every  joy 
she  saw  in  mine,  every  cloud  that  crossed  my  face. 

But  her  soft,  full  lips  tightened  with  dis- 
pleasure whenever  I  spoke  to  another  woman ;  and 
she  found  out  immediately  that  Winawa  was  her 
predecessor  on  my  mat. 

There  was  a  silent,  almost  comic  enmity 
between  these  two,  and  only  their  mutual  respect 
for  me  prevented  them  from  coming  to  blows. 
Winawa  teased  the  younger  woman  by  sitting, 
whenever  possible,  at  my  other  side  before  the 
fire  and  pressing  closely  against  me.  When  Ali 
pulled  me  away,  Winawa  made  eyes  at  me,  and 
emitted  mysterious  lip  noises  which  Ali  was 
sure  possessed  some  erotic  significance. 

Ali  kicked  her  legs  in  the  air  with  anger;  and 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     111 

as  a  rule  ended  by  jumping  up  and  holding  her 
hands  over  my  eyes  threatening  to  take  Winawa's 
mumut,  and  get  the  witch-doctor  to  make  her  un- 
fruitful, so  that  she  would  never  be  able  to  retain 
a  husband,  but  live  a  "joyless  widow"  for  the  rest 
of  her  days. 

When  matters  arrived  at  this  stage,  Winawa 
was  usually  frightened  and  declared  a  truce;  for 
a  few  days  she  would  be  very  careful  to  leave  no 
trace  of  mumut  anywhere  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Ali,  for  fear  the  latter  should  find  it  and  carry 
out  her  threat. 

It  was  a  constantly  recurring  source  of  sorrow 
to  Ali  that  she  was  prohibited  by  her  rank  from 
taking  part  in  certain  of  the  common  tasks;  she 
was  permitted  to  harvest  the  fruit,  but  might  not 
dig  or  sow. 

Neither  might  she  take  part  in  the  great  half- 
yearly  tatloi  *  fishery. 

When  the  presence  of  a  shoal  was  signalled 
from  the  sentinels — who  were  placed  in  the  tallest 
trees  near  the  shore  during  the  time  when  the  fish 
were  expected — we  all  charged  down  to  the  sea 
with  baskets,  sticks,  and  anything  we  could  lay 
hands  on. 

1  A  small,  bright  fish  like  a  sardine.    It  is  the  only  fishery  in 
which  the  women  may  take  part. 


112    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

Winawa  invariably  followed  at  my  heels,  right 
under  Ali's  nose,  who  could  not  join  us. 

We  waded  up  to  our  knees  in  the  water  and 
formed  a  circle  to  prevent  the  tiny  fish  from  es- 
caping with  the  ebbing  tide  through  the  opening 
in  the  coral  reef. 

They  shone  and  glittered,  millions  of  them, 
leaping  and  dancing  on  the  surface  of  the  water. 
We  held  out  our  baskets  and  hands  to  frighten 
them  back,  slowly  closing  in  the  circle  so  that  the 
shoal  might  become  more  closely  packed,  and  thus 
more  easily  captured.  At  the  turn  of  the  tide  the 
fish  with  one  accord  reversed  their  direction.  The 
innumerable  little  bodies  glittered  in  the  sun  as 
they  leaped  high  in  the  air  in  their  efforts  to  es- 
cape, only  to  be  captured  in  the  baskets,  as  we 
shoved  them  forward  and  scooped  them  up. 

We  became  seized  with  frenzy.  The  filled 
baskets  were  quickly  emptied  by  the  boys  into  the 
canoes  and  handed  back.  Some  caught  them  in 
their  hands;  others  scooped  them  up  in  their  arms; 
others  again  struck  at  the  water  with  their  sticks, 
so  that  the  fish  were  stunned. 

Several  women,  lacking  baskets,  tore  off  their 
skirts  and  used  them  as  nets.  I  saw  one  possess- 
ing no  equipment  stuff  fish  into  her  belt,  her  hair, 
even  in  the  spaces  between  her  teeth,  so  that  they 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     113 

stuck  out  wriggling  like  snakes'  tongues  from  her 
wide-open  mouth. 

We  only  desisted  when  the  fish  were  a  shoal 
no  longer,  but  terrified,  isolated  atoms  which  fled 
in  ones  and  twos  between  our  knees.  Then  we 
waded  to  land,  our  arms  aching,  our  feet  cut  and 
bruised  from  treading  on  the  hard,  rough  coral. 

Winawa  came  close  to  my  side,  with  Kadu  and 
Milawa  on  the  other;  they  were  all  in  excellent 
humour  on  account  of  the  successful  catch. 

Winawa  found  among  her  fish  two  small  pink 
muamua,  resembling  sea-slugs, x  and  offered  me 
one  of  them.  Kadu  and  the  others  began  to  grin 
meaningly,  and  watched  eagerly  to  see  whether  I 
would  accept  Winawa's  invitation. 

I  have  tasted  sea-slugs  in  Java,  where,  as  in 
China,  they  are  imported  and  sold  as  great 
delicacies.  They  are  first  boiled,  then  smoked, 
and  finally  served  roasted;  the  natives,  however, 
eat  their  muamua  raw. 

I  looked  at  it  for  a  few  moments,  then  I  per- 
suaded myself  to  try  it.  At  the  same  time 
Winawa  swallowed  hers,  mumbling  something 
to  herself.  Kadu,  Milawa,  and  the  rest,  giggling 
and  gesticulating,  watched  the  little  drama. 

1  Trepang  sea-slugs    (beche-de-mer)   are  eaten   everywhere 
in  China,  and  in  French  farther  India,  also  by  Europeans. 


ii4    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

As  for  Winawa,  her  whole  face  beamed,  and  she 
pressed  affectionately  against  me,  calling  the 
others  to  witness  my  condescension. 

"You  saw  him  eat  it?" 

"We  saw  him  eat  it!"  they  replied  in  unison, 
obviously  enjoying  the  situation,  which  to  me, 
however,  meant  nothing  at  all. 

That  evening,  as  we  sat  round  the  fire  with 
Ali  as  usual  by  my  side,  Winawa,  who  was 
sitting  opposite  us,  said:  "Brown  Earth" — a 
nickname  given  me  by  Kadu — "has  eaten  muamua 
with  me  today." 

"It's  a  lie !"  shouted  Ali,  wildly  excited,  seizing 
my  arm  with  both  hands. 

"You  saw  it,  didn't  you?"  said  Winawa  in 
a  drawling,  affected  voice,  turning  to  Kadu  and 
Milawa,  at  the  same  time  swaying  her  body  to 
and  fro  teasingly. 

"Yes,  we  saw  it!"  the  girls  replied  with  one  ac- 
cord. "He  took  one  and  ate  it,  and  she  took  the 
other  and  ate  it." 

"And  he  enjoyed  it  very  much !"  added  Kadu, 
fixing  his  small,  piercing  eyes  on  Ali  with  an  ir- 
ritating smile. 

"It's  a  lie!  It's  a  lie!"  screamed  Ali  in  my 
face,  pulling  my  arms  to  make  me  speak. 

I  could  not  understand  in  the  least  what  all 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  115 

the  fuss  was  about.  "Certainly  I  ate  it;  we  all 
ate  them!"  I  answered,  freeing  myself  gently 
from  her  grasp. 

Ali  sprang  back;  her  face  contracted,  and  she 
flung  herself  on  her  back  in  the  sand,  where  she 
lay  kicking  her  legs  and  wailing  at  the  top  of 
her  voice. 

I  jumped  up  and  endeavoured  to  calm  her;  but 
it  was  impossible  to  learn  my  offence.  She  only 
kept  shrieking:  "She  shall  die,  and  you  also! 
She  shall  die,  and  you  also!" 

At  last  Toko  and  I  were  compelled  to  carry 
her  away  behind  the  Common  House,  where  the 
others  could  not  hear  or  see  us. 

I  petted  her  like  a  child;  promised  her  the  sun 
and  the  moon  and  all  the  necklaces  to  be  found 
in  the  world;  promised  that  the  witch-doctor 
should  cast  the  death-spell  over  Winawa;  in  short, 
all  that  she  could  possibly  desire,  until  at  last 
her  frenzy  changed  to  long,  heartbroken  sobbing. 

I  had  seen  Toko  look  doubtfully  and  disap- 
provingly at  me  during  the  telling  of  the  story; 
I  therefore  used  the  temporary  lull  to  interrogate 
him.  He  told  me  that  muamua,  like  the  real 
sea-slug,  is  regarded  as  a  love  charm.  The 
woman  who  persuades  a  man  to  eat  it  with  her, 
provided  she  at  the  same  time  recites  an  incanta- 


ii6  VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

tion,  obtains  complete  power  over  his  senses,  and 
can  prevent  him  from  loving  any  one  but  herself. 

I  burst  into  loud  laughter,  which  I  soon  found 
myself  powerless  to  control.  Ali  raised  herself 
on  her  hand  and  gazed  at  me  in  amazement.  Ac- 
customed as  she  was  to  identify  herself  with  all 
my  aims  and  emotions,  she  was  at  last  compelled 
to  laugh  also,  and  I  quickly  seized  the  opportunity 
to  persuade  her  that  that  kind  of  witchcraft  had  no 
power  over  me. 

I  was  extremely  careful  not  to  refute  its  power 
over  ordinary  people — that  would  merely  have 
upset  her  and  made  the  natives  suspicious  of  me ; 
but  against  me,  the  white  man,  the  island's  evil 
spirits  were  utterly  powerless.  Not,  however, 
until  I  told  her  that  it  was  my  gun  which 
frightened  them  would  she  be  calmed.  That  fear 
she  could  quite  understand. 

Nevertheless,  Ali's  peace  of  mind  had  received 
a  shock.  Even  supposing  that  the  evil  spirits 
were  powerless,  there  still  remained  Winawa's 
hatred.  Ali  understood  perfectly  well  Winawa's 
refusal  to  give  up  trying  to  win  me;  what  really 
surprised  her  was  the  fact  that  the  other  un- 
married women  did  not  all  desert  their  men  to  run 
after  me.  When  we  were  lying  on  our  mat  that 
night,  she  pressed  her  warm  body  close  against 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     117 

mine  and  whispered  tearfully :  "Why  don't  you 
buy  me?  Why  don't  you  buy  me?" 

I  lay  awake  for  a  long  time  thinking  over  her 
words,  while  Ali  slept  peacefully,  her  healthy, 
regular  breathing  warming  my  neck. 

Some  days  later,  when  I  returned  from  work 
in  the  fields,  Ali  was  not  to  be  found. 

I  asked  the  women  where  she  had  gone. 

"She  is  in  the  Women's  House,"  *  they  said. 

Already,  the  very  first  day,  I  missed  her  fright- 
fully; but  the  next  day  was  worse  still.  I  found 
that  I  could  no  longer  live  without  her  beating 
heart  at  my  side,  her  ever-open  hand  touching 
mine,  her  steadfast  eyes  reflecting  the  light  from 
my  own,  her  young  straight  soul  which,  receiving 
everything  from  me,  gave  in  return  all  she 
possessed. 

I  stole  away  from  the  others  at  midday  whilst 
they  lay  dozing  in  the  shade,  and  crept  cautiously 
in  the  direction  of  the  Women's  House.  I  had 
never  been  there  before ;  it  was  forbidden  for  men 
to  approach  on  pain  of  being  stoned  to  death  by 
the  women  if  discovered. 

But    I    knew    the    general    direction,    having 

1  The  Women's  House  is  an  isolated  building  situated  in  the 
midst  of  the  woods.  It  is  there  that  the  young  girls  are  pre- 
pared for  their  "initiation" ;  and  where  each  woman  retires  for 
a  day  or  so  every  few  weeks  when  naturally  indisposed. 


ii8     VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

several  times  seen  women  returning  from  the 
place,  smiling  and  rejuvenated,  wearing  their  new 
skirts.  I  looked  about  until  I  found  a  place  at 
the  edge  of  the  forest  where  the  aerial  roots  were 
broken  and  twigs  snapped.  I  followed  the  faintly 
denned  path  cautiously,  standing  and  listening  at 
intervals;  I  knew  the  place  could  not  be  far 
distant,  for  the  King's  cocoa-nut  grove  was  just 
over  the  hill. 

Reaching  the  King's  newly  erected  fence  I 
turned  at  right  angles  and  went  straight  ahead, 
until  I  heard  some  hens  cackling.  There  it  was ! 
In  a  little  clearing  among  the  trees  stood  a  big, 
square  house  resembling  the  Common  House,  with 
a  high,  painted  gable.  It  was  surrounded  by  a 
close  bamboo  fence  about  six  feet  high. 

I  could  hear  the  women  laughing  and  chattering 
within.  I  even  thought  I  could  distinguish  Ali's 
voice,  and  creeping  nearer  I  peeped  through  a 
hole  in  the  fence. 

There  she  was !  She  was  walking  in  the  sand, 
playing  with  the  chickens,  to  which  she  threw 
crumbs  of  taro  bread,  trying  to  capture  them  as 
they  picked  them  up. 

I  was  as  delighted  as  if  we  had  been  parted  a 
whole  month.  When  she  at  last  came  near  the 
place  where  I  stood,  I  began  clucking  like  a  hen. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  119 

She  listened  for  a  moment  and  then  came  right  up 
to  the  hole  in  the  fence,  with  the  intention  of  look- 
ing through. 

I  spoke  her  name.  She  gave  a  violent  start; 
her  eyes  shone  like  fire  into  mine.  Recovering 
herself  quickly  she  called  to  the  hen.  I  clucked 
again  louder  and  louder.  She  pretended  to  be 
surprised,  and  went  up  to  two  old  women,  whom 
I  had  never  before  set  eyes  on,  and  who  probably 
lived  there  all  their  lives,  occupied  in  watching 
the  holy  place. 

She  told  them  of  the  hen  which  had  flown 
over  the  fence  and  escaped.  One  of  the  old 
women  gave  her  a  long  stick  with  a  hook  at 
the  end.  She  took  it  and  approached  the  door, 
which  was  situated  in  the  fence  quite  near  where 
I  was  standing.  She  put  the  hook  in  a  ring 
high  up  in  the  air  and  pulled  downwards  with 
all  her  might.  The  heavy  door,  hanging  on  a 
large  wooden  pulley,  rose  slowly  in  its  tight-fit- 
ting grooves.  Making  the  pole  fast,  she  slid 
underneath  the  door,  and  next  moment  she  was  in 
my  arms,  all  the  while  calling  the  hen,  and  I 
cackling  in  response! 

Suddenly  terror  of  the  consequences  over- 
whelmed her.  She  pressed  her  bosom  once  more 
against  me,  unloosed  her  arms  from  my  shoulders, 


120     VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

and  drove  me  away.  She  remained  standing 
there,  calling  to  the  imaginary  hen  until  I  was 
in  safety  beyond  the  liana  trees,  and  she  could  see 
me  no  more. 

The  dull  thump  of  the  heavy  door  falling  into 
its  place  echoed  in  my  ears  as  I  once  more  joined 
the  others,  who  lay  as  I  had  left  them,  sleeping 
in  the  shade  of  the  trees. 

That  night,  as  I  lay  sleepless  on  my  lonely 
mat,  I  determined  to  buy  Ali. 

First  of  all  I  must  build  a  house.  How  could 
one  buy  a  king's  daughter  without  a  house  to 
offer  her*? 

I  began  to  throw  out  hints  to  Toko  that  I  was 
not  so  young  as  he,  and  that  Tongu,  who  was 
very  little  older  than  I,  had  been  for  a  long  time 
a  bearded  man  with  his  own  house  and  home. 
Toko  looked  at  me  with  a  scared  expression.  I 
went  on  to  say  how  much  easier  it  would  be  to 
have  a  house  of  one's  own  instead  of  sleeping 
where  every  one  was  sniffing  and  kicking  and 
scraping  with  their  mats. 

Toko  made  no  reply;  he  only  frowned  and 
looked  dejectedly  before  him  in  silence. 

On  the  third  evening  of  Ali's  absence,  as  we 
were  walking  home  from  the  fields,  I  complained 
of  pains  in  the  back.  I  was  not  strong  enough 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     121 

to  stand  the  continuous  labour  with  the  boiling 
sun  on  my  back  the  whole  day  long.  I  was  in 
better  health  at  the  beginning  when  I  lived  alone 
with  Tongu. 

This  was  too  much  for  Toko. 

"If  you  want  to  build  a  house  and  leave  us,1' 
he  said,  with  trembling  voice,  "then  say  it  right 
out,  but  don't  grumble  at  me,  who  eat  from  your 
hand."  l 

I  suddenly  realized  that  Toko  thought  me  un- 
grateful. Everything  I  had  said  he  had  taken 
as  a  personal  reproach,  as  if  it  were  his  fault 
that  the  sun  burnt,  and  my  back  hurt,  and  people 
scraped  their  feet  and  shuffled  their  mats  at  night. 

Finally  I  admitted  to  him  that  I  wanted  to 
buy  Ali. 

He  shook  his  head  despondently,  and  hinted 
that  women  never  brought  luck.  One  was  never 
safe  against  witchcraft.  It  were  far  better  to 
eat  one's  bread  oneself  than  share  it  with  others. 
It  were  better  to  live  at  peace  with  one's  friends 
and  choose  one's  own  bedfellow  than  have  the 
bird  of  ill-omen  sitting  on  one's  roof. 

When  he  saw  that  his  good  advice  fell  on  deaf 
ears  he  gave  a  deep  sigh,  and  began  at  last  to 
be  interested  in  the  matter  itself.  And  when  he 

1  The  native  expression  for  blind  devotion  and  servitude. 


122     VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

really  understood  that  a  house  must  be  built  and 
that  nobody  must  know  why,  he  became  almost 
more  interested  than  I  was  myself. 

He  walked  to  and  from  his  work  with  a  vacant, 
far-away  expression  in  his  eyes.  Upon  my  ask- 
ing what  he  thought  about,  he  no  longer  answered 
"Air,"  but  "Fireplace"  or  "Flat  bamboos  for  the 
walls"  or  something  similar. 

He  was  even  more  affectionate  than  usual  to- 
wards me  at  this  period ;  he  thought  only  of  mak- 
ing life  happy  for  me,  though  he  was  convinced 
he  would  soon  lose  me  for  ever. 

We  found  a  suitable  situation  in  the  Common 
Wood  not  far  from  the  sea,  and  quite  close  to 
the  cocoa-nut  grove.  We  cleared  the  ground. 
Tongu  procured  us  good  dry  timber  at  a  low  cost; 
he  was  delighted  with  my  plan,  and  looked  for- 
ward with  joy  to  my  joining  the  bearded  bene- 
dicts of  the  community,  of  which  he  had  long  been 
a  valued  member. 

Toko  cut  down  young  branches  for  laths,  and 
hastened  to  secure  the  best  and  largest  cocoa-nut 
leaves  for  thatching.  I  marked  off  a  rectangular 
piece  of  ground — it  was  to  be  a  large  hut,  a  royal 
hut  for  Ali. 

After  I  had  ransacked  my  sea-chest,  thus  pro- 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  123 

viding  the  necessary  funds,  Toko  and  Tongu 
undertook  in  partnership  the  difficult  task  of 
choosing  dry,  well-seasoned,  cocoa-nut  beams, 
which  were  required  for  the  chief  uprights  as  well 
as  for  lateral  and  longitudinal  foundations  for 
the  whole  hut. 

The  walls  were  formed  from  young  trunks  split 
into  thick  boards,  and  covered  on  the  innermost 
side  with  thin  bamboo  canes,  like  those  in  the 
King's  House.  Tongu  found  these  an  unneces- 
sary luxury,  but  Toko  was  of  the  opinion  that 
nothing  was  too  good  for  me. 

The  fireplace  was  set  on  the  central  cross-beam 
formed  of  the  usual  large  square  coral  blocks, 
chosen  by  Toko,  and  hewn  into  shape  by  the 
three  of  us.  We  covered  the  outer  side  of  these 
blocks  with  thick  planking,  as  used  only  in  the 
best  houses. 

An  enormous  sleeping-bench  filled  one  end  of 
the  room,  constructed  of  first  quality  planks,  care- 
fully smoothed  by  Toko  with  his  mussel  hatchet. 
The  bench  was  raised  about  a  foot  above  the 
floor,  and  Tongu  wove  two  beautiful  mats  for  it, 
from  the  softest  bass,  procured  from  the  ribs 
of  the  pandang  leaf.  They  were  his  wedding 
gift. 


124  VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

In  the  opposite  corner,  just  inside  the  door, 
was  a  wooden  stand,  corresponding  to  our  hat- 
stand,  for  tools  and  weapons.  Round  the  entire 
room,  just  underneath  the  roof,  ran  two  deep 
shelves  for  food,  kitchen  utensils,  and  other 
articles  in  daily  use. 

The  house,  whitewashed  on  the  outside  with 
burnt  coral  chalk,  with  ochre-painted  door  and 
beams,  and  roofed  with  the  finest  interwoven 
cocoa-nut  leaves,  was  finished  at  last.  Tongu, 
Toko,  and  I  made  a  final  inspection  both  inside 
and  out.  When  all  was  pronounced  perfect,  and 
we  stood  once  more  before  the  door,  Toko 
suddenly  burst  out  crying,  tearing  his  curly  hair. 

"Now  you  are  leaving  me,"  he  howled,  "and 
I  shall  never  see  you  again!  Who  will  protect 
me  against  mumut  and  purmea^'  l 

I  assured  him  that  we  should  meet  every  day, 
and  that  he  was  always  welcome  at  my  house. 
But  he  only  shook  his  head,  and  began  his  eternal 
wail  about  the  bird  of  ill-omen  on  the  roof. 

I  went  to  my  sea-chest  and  found  an  old  watch, 
which  I  taught  him  to  wind  up.  I  told  him  that 
the  evil  spirits  were  as  much  afraid  of  the  watch 
as  of  my  gun. 

i  Witchcraft 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     125 

This  comforted  him  a  little;  but  he  continued 
depressed  and  gloomy.  All  his  talk  about  evil 
spirits  was  probably  a  childish  attempt  to  explain 
away  the  sorrow  he  felt  at  parting  from  me,  an 
emotion  he  had  never  before  experienced,  and 
therefore  could  not  comprehend. 


CHAPTER    TEN 

ESCORTED  by  Tongu  and  Toko,  I  went 
to  the  King's  House  to  ask  for  All's  hand. 
We  took  gifts  for  Long  White-Ears: 
a  pair  of  yellow  flannel  pants  with  black  stripes, 
and  a  pair  of  white  silk  braces  with  blue  stitches. 
They  had  been  my  pride,  when  I  bought  them 
long  ago  in  Batavia. 

As  we  turned  from  the  highway  towards  the 
royal  residence,  Wahuja,  as  before,  came  sneaking 
towards  us.  He  seemed  always  to  know  before- 
hand what  was  happening  in  the  village. 

I  could  see  by  his  very  walk,  as  he  came  limp- 
ing forward  on  his  sore  feet,  his  skinny  knees 
knocking  against  one  another,  that  he  knew  our 
errand,  and  its  importance. 

He  was  wearing  my  uncle's  gold  spectacles, 
which  he  always  donned  on  important  occasions, 
believing  evidently  that  they  not  only  sharpened 
his  eyes,  but  also  his  wits. 

He  stopped  a  short  distance  away  and  beckoned 
us  into  the  shadow  of  the  pisang  tree.  His  small 
126 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  127 

crafty  eyes  swept  hastily  over  my  person,  my 
escort,  and  the  basket  Toko  was  carrying.  His 
toothless  gums  worked  ceaselessly;  he  elevated 
his  hairy  right  ear  as  if  he  were  giving  audience. 
I  told  him  my  mission.  But  though  he  had  from 
the  beginning  warmly  applauded  Ali's  choice — 
besides  receiving  a  drink  as  a  perquisite  on  calling 
the  day  after — it  was  impossible  now  to  wring 
from  him  one  approving  glance. 

Quite  the  reverse.  The  cunning  rat  scratched 
his  donkey's  ears  thoughtfully,  as  though  he  had 
a  most  criminal  case  to  deal  with. 

"Has  the  Rich  Giver  considered,"  he  said  after 
a  period  of  gum  chewing,  "the  fact  that  he  is  a 
foreigner,  and,  in  addition,  possesses  a  false  skin?" 

I  pointed  out  that  I  had  only  followed  his  own 
wise  advice,  and  that  my  appearance  was  in 
consequence  identical  with  that  of  every  respecta- 
ble Mahura  man. 

"But  the  King's  daughter  has  real  skin,"  he 
persisted — as  if  skin,  not  marriage,  were  being 
discussed.  "It  does  not  wash  off  in  the  rain!" 
he  added  viciously,  as  an  afterthought. 

I  remarked  that  it  was  unfortunate  that 
Wahuja  did  not  approve  of  my  plan,  for  other- 
wise I  had  brought  one  or  two  trifles  I  had  in- 
tended to  offer  him  as  a  reward  for  his  incon- 


128    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

venience  in  laying  the  matter  before  the  King. 

Toko  opened  the  basket.  The  braces  and 
trousers  were  produced.  I  held  them  up  before 
his  ancient  eyes  in  all  their  tempting  length. 
In  spite  of  himself  he  could  not  conceal  his  desire 
for  this  new  finery.  His  trembling  fingers 
fumbled  over  the  soft  wool;  his  spectacles 
gleamed  on  the  white  silk,  as  he  sniffed  the  braces 
from  one  end  to  the  other. 

Would  not  the  wise  Wahuja  try  what  excellent 
protection  they  were  for  elderly  legs  needing 
warmth*?  (Wahuja  always  looked  half-frozen.) 

I  drew  him  aside  among  the  trees  and  showed 
him  how  to  put  them  on.  It  was  a  difficult  job, 
but  we  succeeded  at  last,  Tongu  and  Toko  lift- 
ing him  up  bodily  while  I  stuck  his  stiff  legs 
through. 

He  was  tremendously  impressed  upon  looking 
down  and  seeing  his  black-striped  limbs.  I  then 
fastened  the  braces  on  and  showed  him  the  wonder- 
ful mechanism  with  the  round  flat  buttons — he 
called  them  mussels — for  fitting  into  the  holes 
in  the  braces;  when  he  saw  that  they  could  be 
lengthened  or  shortened  so  that  the  trousers  could 
pull  up  right  over  his  sunken  stomach;  when  he 
noticed  how  the  warmth  began  to  tickle — his 
mouth  opened  silently  almost  to  his  hairy  ears, 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  129 

exposing  his  leathery,  toothless  gums.  It  was 
the  first  and  only  time  I  ever  saw  Wahuja  laugh. 

Tongu  and  Toko  emitted  one  "Ai"  after  the 
other,  standing  bowed  in  respectful  admiration, 
striking  themselves  awestruck  blows  on  the  thighs. 

I  then  ventured  a  witticism. 

"Now  that  the  wise  Wahuja  himself  wears  a 
false  skin,  he  cannot  blame  the  foreigner  for  his 
skin  not  being  real*?" 

Wahuja  failed  to  appreciate  my  humour,  and 
contented  himself  with  remarking  that  he  would 
do  what  he  could  for  the  Rich  Giver.  When  we 
reached  the  last  part  of  the  road  to  the  King's 
House — Wahuja  wearing  his  gold  spectacles, 
braces,  and  pants — the  verandah  literally  seethed 
with  curly  black  heads,  overwhelmed  with  ad- 
miration at  the  unique  spectacle.  They  dis- 
appeared abruptly  at  a  word  of  command  from 
within. 

Wahuja  made  us  wait  beneath  the  verandah 
until  he  had  shown  off  his  finery  to  the  King, 
and  explained  our  business.  There  followed  a 
long  delay,  probably  occupied  in  settling  details 
of  the  price,  and  in  arraying  His  Majesty  in  re- 
ception clothes. 

When  at  last  we  entered,  Wahuja  directed  me 
to  lead  the  way,  with  Tongu  some  paces  behind, 


130    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

while  he  ordered  Toko  to  sit  just  outside  the  door. 

"This  will  be  an  expensive  business,"  I  thought, 
"with  all  this  ceremony." 

We  greeted  the  King  obsequiously,  as  he  sat 
on  his  mat  in  most  solemn  state — his  little  white 
parade  ax  over  his  shoulder  and  #£/£/-basket 
on  his  arm.  The  straw  hat,  too,  was  on  his  head, 
while  behind  him  stood  a  young  girl  holding  the 
umbrella  over  his  head  in  place  of  the  usual  fan. 

He  looked  dignified  and  good-humoured,  but 
not  nearly  so  friendly  as  on  the  last  occasion. 

"This  will  be  a  terrible  expense,"  I  thought 
again;  "the  old  hypocrite  has  put  him  up  to  it." 

As  before,  the  Queen  sat  on  a  separate  mat 
slightly  to  the  rear,  but  Wahuja  was  now  right 
in  the  foreground — indeed,  almost  in  front  of  the 
King.  Obviously  it  was  he  who  would  conduct 
the  negotiations. 

After  the  King  had  offered  us  betel,  and  we 
had  chewed  and  expectorated  for  the  correct  time, 
he  said  suddenly:  "What  does  the  Rich  Giver 
desire  of  the  King?" 

"Rich  Giver"  and  the  use  of  the  third  person 
were  very  bad  signs. 

Phrasing  my  words  carefully,  I  said  that  the 
poor  stranger  who  ate  from  the  King's  hand  on 
this  happy  island  had  presumed  to  fix  his  eyes 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     131 

upon  the  King's  daughter;  and  that  he  desired 
above  all  things  to  buy  her  as  his  wife,  in  order 
thereby  to  provide  His  Majesty  with  numerous 
descendants  to  perpetuate  his  most  honourable 
lineage  and  be  heavy  tax-payers  to  the  royal 
treasury. 

I  had  rehearsed  my  speech  on  the  previous  even- 
ing before  Tongu,  who  had  approved  of  it  all 
except  that  he  advised  the  substitution  of  "tax- 
payers" for  "warriors,"  the  latter  expression 
being,  in  his  opinion,  obsolete. 

The  King  chewed  awhile  on  his  last  piece  of 
betel,  afterwards  spitting  it  out  vigorously,  mak- 
ing an  excellent  long-distance  shot,  which  almost 
reached  the  opposite  wall  where  Toko  sat. 

"Why  do  my  people  call  the  Foreigner  'Brown 
Earth'  ?"  he  said  suddenly. 

I  gave  Wahuja  a  look  full  of  reproach  for  his 
ingratitude.  But  before  I  could  answer  the  old 
man  interrupted. 

"The  Foreigner  painted  his  skin  at  my  sugges- 
tion to  avoid  annoyance.  And  'Brown  Earth' 
has,  by  so  adapting  himself  to  our  customs,  de- 
rived power  over  this  island's  evil  spirits,  so  that 
he  and  his  are  safe  against  witchcraft." 

An  extraordinary  thing  then  happened.  The 
Queen,  who  hitherto  had  remained  silent  and 


132    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

motionless,  staring  at  me,  suddenly  opened  her 
bulging  lips  and  exclaimed : 

"When  the  King's  daughter  bears  children  to 
the  Foreigner  they  will  not  have  real  skins,  but 
false  ones  which  will  wash  off  in  the  rain,  and 
the  King's  blood  will  be  for  ever  shamed." 

I  had  forgotten  all  about  the  Queen:  now  the 
fat  was  in  the  fire  with  a  vengeance ! 

Tongu  came  to  my  assistance.  Throwing  him- 
self forward  on  all  fours,  he  said: 

"If  the  Great  King's  daughter  will  but  visit 
the  witch-doctor  when  she  is  with  child,  and  let 
him  practise  purmea  on  her  body,  her  offspring 
will  have  real  skin." 

But  the  Queen  countered  like  lightning: 
"Wahuja  said  that  the  spirits  of  this  island  had 
no  power  over  the  Rich  Giver  or  his  family." 

Tongu  gaped ;  he  could  not  cap  that.  I  cursed 
my  f orgetf ulness ;  there  was  no  mistaking  what 
the  Queen  meant  in  calling  me  by  my  confounded 
nickname. 

Wahuja  again  came  to  the  rescue.  Jealous 
of  his  power,  he  ignored  the  Queen  completely, 
bent  down  before  the  King,  and  said: 

"The  Great  King  can  instruct  the  Rich  Giver 
to  let  his  own  spirits,  who  obey  him  and  are 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     133 

mightier  than  ours,  furnish  the  offspring  of  the 
King's  daughter  with  real  skin." 

I  hastened  to  assure  His  Majesty  that  there 
was  nothing  the  spirits  of  my  race  would  like 
better  than  to  take  charge  of  his  daughter's  off- 
spring. Then,  bowing  to  the  Queen,  said: 

"The  Queen  has  made  the  Foreigner's  eyes  big 
with  her  beauty.  Never  was  there  anything  so 
pretty  as  the  ornament  round  her  neck"  (the  silk 
handkerchief  I  had  given  her  a  few  days  ago, 
which  was  then  tied  with  the  ends  hanging  on 
her  bosom),  "but  how  glorious  would  not  Her 
Majesty  appear  if  she  wore  a  similar  ornament 
in  her  glossy  hair,  just  like  Ska  Quivin" — here 
I  pointed  to  the  Madonna  with  the  blue  cloth 
round  her  head.  "Such  an  ornament  will  the 
Foreigner  present  to  the  Great  King's  beautiful 
Queen.  In  addition,  he  will  give  her  a  new  skin 
for  her  hands  similar  to  the  one  worn  by  the  wise 
Wahuja  on  his  legs;  but  that  skin  shall  be  whiter 
than  the  whitest  coral  sand  on  the  shore." 

(My  old  white  dancing-gloves  should  be  just 
about  her  size.) 

The  Queen  raised  her  lazy  eyelids,  her  eyes 
bulged,  and  her  mouth  opened  wide,  showing  all 
her  brown  teeth.  Victory  was  ours.  The  King 


134    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

relaxed  ceremony  and  began  to  look  friendly. 
He  made  a  fresh  betel-plug  for  me  and  took  one 
himself;  again  we  chewed  and  spat  for  some  time 
without  speaking. 

Then  he  said — dropping  my  tiresome  titles  and 
speaking  most  familiarly:  "Have  you  had  my 
daughter  on  your  mat*?" 

I  answered  in  the  affirmative,  although  it  was 
a  mere  matter  of  form,  he  having  known  it  from 
the  beginning. 

"And  you  are  sure  that  you  and  my  daughter 
are  suited  to  one  another*?" 

By  which  he  meant  that  once  the  bargain  was 
struck,  it  would  be  useless  for  me  to  come  to 
him  afterwards  complaining  of  hidden  faults 
and  wanting  my  money  back. 

I  again  acquiesced,  at  the  same  time  repressing 
all  signs  of  enthusiasm,  for  fear  of  inflating  the 
price. 

Had  I  a  suitable  house  for  her*? 

He  knew  all  about  it,  cunning  old  rascal !  For 
the  last  fortnight  the  village  had  talked  of  noth- 
ing else  but  the  new  house  and  its  magnificence. 

Tired  of  beating  about  the  bush,  I  ventured 
to  ask  in  level  tones  what  was  the  price  demanded 
for  All. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     135 

The  King  immediately  resumed  his  dignity; 
while  Wahuja  slid  forward  on  his  mat  until  he 
sat  between  the  King  and  me. 

"The  King's  youngest  daughter,"  he  croaked, 
"is  valued  at  a  hundred  pokon  tabu."  l 

Good  heavens ! 

There  followed  a  dead  silence,  while  I  collected 
my  thoughts.  I  could  see  their  eyes  fixed  on  me 
in  great  excitement,  although  their  faces  remained 
quite  expressionless. 

Tongu  dared  not  say  a  word,  but  I  knew  that 
he  also  found  the  price  extortionate.  At  last  I 
summoned  up  courage  and  spoke : 

"The  King's  daughter  is  very  beautiful;  she  is 
worth  more  than  five  white  women.  But  for  a 
hundred  pokon  the  Foreigner  could  buy  twenty 
women  of  his  own  race.  Therefore,  O  wise 
Wahuja,  he  who  came  to  this  island  as  the 
Rich  Giver,  but  who  now,  on  account  of  his  gifts, 
has  become  the  Poor  Giver,  can  offer  only  fifty 
pokon  for  the  King's  youngest  daughter." 

1  Tabu  means  money,  fortune,  property.  The  unit  of  value 
is  a  small  shell  in  which  is  bored  a  hole  so  that  it  can  be  strung 
on  a  rotang  thread.  A  string  reaching  from  the  middle  of  the 
chest  to  the  tips  of  the  fingers  holds  160  shells  and  is  called  a 
papar.  Two  papar  are  called  a  pokon  and  consist,  therefore, 
of  320  units. 


136     VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

A  painful  silence  followed,  broken  only  by 
Wahuja's  gums  rubbing  together  as  he  prepared 
his  reply. 

But  the  King,  losing  patience,  anticipated  him : 

"I  have  heard  that  you  possess  a  gun-stick  only 
half  the  length  of  the  ordinary  one." 

He  referred  to  my  pistol.  I  was  struck  dumb 
with  amazement.  I  had  never  once  used  the 
pistol  on  the  island;  it  had  remained  undisturbed 
in  my  sea-chest.  I  don't  believe  that  even  Tongu 
knew  of  its  existence. 

So  they  had  managed  to  spy  out  my  buying 
capacity!  I  looked  hard  at  Wahuja,  but  he  did 
not  blink;  I  looked  at  Tongu — he  seemed  to  be 
equally  guiltless. 

After  another  awkward  pause  Wahuja  decided 
to  launch  an  ultimatum. 

"If  the  White  Man  will  give  the  Great  King 
his  little  fire-stick,  the  King  will  sell  his  daughter 
for  fifty  pokon." 

I  beat  him  down  to  forty  pokon,  in  considera- 
tion of  the  little  fire-stick  being  unique  in  its 
rarity. 

Before  the  matter  was  finally  settled  Wahuja 
modestly  suggested  to  His  Majesty  that  two 
pokon  be  granted  him  out  of  the  Foreigner's 
pocket  as  a  kind  of  commission.  This  was  too 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  137 

much  for  the  Queen,  who  raised  her  voice  again, 
exclaiming  that,  as  I  had  no  parents,  and  Tongu 
lived  alone  in  his  house,  it  was  best  that  Ali  should 
pass  her  isolation  period  *  in  the  King's  House, 
where  she — the  Queen; — would  watch  over  her 
personally,  for  which  service  she  would  require  a 
bonus  of  two  pokon,  also  to  be  paid  by  me. 

Thus  at  last  the  bargain  was  concluded. 

The  King  could  not  conceal  his  joy;  the  Queen 
also  bubbled  with  anticipation;  while  Wahuja 
crept  about  chewing  his  gums  over  the  good 
stroke  of  business  he  had  done. 

We  over-ate  ourselves  most  grossly  at  dinner, 
to  which  both  Wahuja  and  Tongu  were  invited, 
as  a  mark  of  appreciation  for  services  rendered. 

We  became  very  merry,  shouting  and  compet- 
ing with  one  another  in  hiccoughing  and  other 
primitive  noises,  while  the  King  threw  dignity 
to  the  winds  and  kicked  me  repeatedly  on  the 
shins. 

When,  sick  with  food  and  dizzy  with  new  fer- 

1  When  a  young  girl  is  sold,  she  lives  in  the  house  of  her 
parents-in-law  until  the  price  is  paid  and  the  wedding  may  take 
place.  She  is  shut  off  in  a  separate  room,  may  see  no  one,  and 
only  eat  certain  articles  of  food.  When  necessary  for  her  to  go 
out  of  doors,  she  wears  a  nun's  dress  of  pandang  leaves  which 
covers  her  from  the  crown  of  her  head  to  her  feet.  The 
woman  taking  charge  of  her  is  responsible  for  her  condition, 
and  receives  gifts  at  her  wedding. 


138    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

mented  wine,  we  finally  departed,  Wahuja  ac- 
companied us  with  ostentatious  friendliness. 

I  asked  him  how  soon  the  marriage  could  take 
place,  to  which  he  made  the  business-like  re- 
joinder that  as  soon  as  I  had  paid  the  money  I 
could  have  the  bride. 

We  were  saying  good-bye  to  the  wise  man  down 
by  the  beach,  when  Tongu  remarked  he  had  some- 
thing on  his  mind,  and  hastened  to  call  me  back. 

Wahuja  hesitated  a  moment,  fidgeting  on  his 
sore  feet.  Then  out  it  came. 

Could  I  raise  so  big  a  sum  of  money?  Forty- 
four  pokon  was  a  big,  very  big  tabu.  If,  how- 
ever, I  should  be  unable  for  the  time  being  to  pay, 
he  would  be  only  too  pleased  to  assist  me.  He 
had  several  good  friends  who  had  tabu  in  reserve, 
and,  if  I  cared  to  borrow  the  amount,  he  could 
arrange  the  matter  at  an  interest  of  one  pokon  for 
every  five  as  borrowed. 

That  was  twenty  per  cent.!  I  agreed  to 
borrow  half  the  money,  for  I  immediately  realized 
that  it  was  part  of  the  purchase-price.  If  I  re- 
fused his  help  he  would  certainly  discover  a  fresh 
moral  objection  to  the  marriage. 

Before  letting  me  escape,  he  made  one  more 
offer.  If  I  wished  to  raise  the  remaining  half  of 
the  money  by  selling  the  contents  of  my  sea-chest, 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  139 

he  knew  persons  willing  to  pay  high  prices  if 
necessary. 

I  replied  that  I  would  think  it  over,  and 
thanked  him  for  his  kindness  and  interest. 

Then  at  last  we  parted,  the  best  of  friends, 
every  trace  of  condescension  on  Wahuja's  part 
gone.  Never  had  I  seen  the  old  man  so  over- 
joyed as  he  limped  away  on  his  sore  feet,  with 
his  white  silk  braces  and  the  striped  flannel  pants, 
that  covered  his  skinny  body  to  the  shoulder- 
blades. 

But  no  sooner  was  he  out  of  earshot  than  Tongu 
burst  into  loud  complaints. 

We  could  easily  have  bought  the  girl  for  half 
the  money — the  King's  expression  told  him  that. 
I  should  never  have  offered  fifty  pokon,  but  should 
have  said  that  there  were  plenty  more  pretty  girls 
on  this  happy  island.  With  the  fire-stick  thrown 
in,  twenty  pokon  would  have  been  an  excellent 
price. 


CHAPTER     ELEVEN 

A  MONTH  later  we  all  assembled  at  the 
King's  House,  Tongu  and  Toko  bearing 
the  purchase-money  in  their  baskets. 
We  were  received  ceremoniously  by  Wahuja,  in 
the  presence  of  the  King  and  the  whole  Court. 

When  the  time  arrived  for  the  money  to  be 
counted,  Wahuja  beckoned  the  tallest  man  in  the 
King's  bodyguard  to  come  forward.  The  fellow 
was  well  over  six  feet  high,  and  as  he  proceeded 
to  measure  our  papar x  chains  from  the  middle  of 
his  chest  to  the  tips  of  his  fingers,  it  soon  became 
evident  that  our  tabu,  to  fulfil  the  conditions, 
would  need  increasing  by  one-fifth. 

This  was  too  much  for  Tongu.  He  sprang 
forward,  and  with  bulging  eyes  declared  that  we 
would  not  submit  to  the  longest-armed  Master 
of  the  Mint  in  the  whole  kingdom. 

Wahuja  calmly  replied  that  that  was  his  busi- 
ness. 

Tongu,   who  was  extremely  honourable   and 

1  See  note,  p.  135. 

140 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     141 

punctilious  in  money  matters,  answered  hotly — 
I  had  never  seen  the  sedate  old  fellow  so  angry. 
They  would  certainly  have  come  to  blows  had 
not  the  King  majestically  declared  himself  content 
with  the  measure  we  had  employed,  which  corre- 
sponded exactly  to  Tongu's  width  of  breast  and 
length  of  arm. 

When  the  question  of  money  was  at  last 
settled,  the  Queen  appeared,  escorting  Ali  into 
the  room.  She  was  covered  from  head  to  foot 
with  a  robe  of  pandang  leaves,  so  that  she  had 
to  be  led  forward  by  the  hand. 

As  soon  as  her  nun's  dress  had  been  removed 
and,  for  the  first  time  after  a  month's  separation, 
she  caught  sight  of  me,  she  uttered  a  shriek  of 
joy  and  ran  towards  me  without  the  least  regard 
for  etiquette. 

His  Majesty  murmured,  and  Ali  had  to  return 
to  the  Queen  until  we  men  had  chewed  betel  to 
seal  the  bargain.  The  King  offered  to  give  a 
feast-dance  in  my  honour,  but  I  excused  myself, 
as  I  saw  how  impatient  Ali  was;  Wahuja  also 
was  of  the  opinion  that  a  breach  of  marriage  eti- 
quette was  permissible  on  account  of  my  not  being 
a  real  Mahura  man. 

I  now  presented  to  the  Queen  the  promised 
handkerchief  and  white  gloves,  together  with  the 


142     VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

bonus  agreed  upon.  At  last  All  was  mine  in  real 
and  lawful  marriage. 

Then  I  took  AH  home. 

Her  bridal  costume  consisted  of  fresh-plucked 
red  flowers  in  her  hair  and  ears,  and  round  her 
neck.  In  addition,  her  whole  body  shone  regally 
with  thick  cocoa-nut  oil,  while  her  breast  and 
arms  were  painted  with  flaming  streaks  of  yellow. 

When  Ali  saw  her  new  home  she  leaped  high 
in  the  air  with  a  shriek  of  delight,  and  began  im- 
mediately to  explore  the  interior.  When  she 
had  finished  she  came  up  to  me,  put  her  arms 
round  my  body,  and  looked  up  in  my  face,  her 
whole  soul  shining  in  her  large,  clear  eyes. 

When  we  at  last  retired  to  rest  on  our  new 
mat,  her  tears  and  smiles  mingled  as  she  clung 
to  that  which  was  now  her  whole  world.  She 
called  me  by  the  most  extraordinary  names — 
fish,  fowl,  and  other  things  I  could  not  under- 
stand. Her  joy  degenerated  into  inarticulate 
noises,  but  when  at  last  she  became  quieter  she 
told  me  to  the  minutest  detail  all  the  sorrow  and 
anxiety  she  had  suffered  through  being  separated 
from  me. 

We  were  incredibly  happy,  we  two — we  two 
quite  alone.  In  the  morning  we  jumped  out  of 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  143 

bed  like  two  happy,  intoxicated  birds,  our  voices 
bursting  with  song. 

We  warbled  in  the  blazing  morning  sun,  and 
in  the  beginning  did  not  even  trouble  to  leave  our 
nests  to  run  down  to  the  strand  to  bathe. 

We  sat  like  two  children,  lazily  watching  the 
hens  scratching  at  the  roots  of  the  trees,  laugh- 
ing at  the  young  cockerels  learning  to  flap  their 
wings  and  crow. 

Presently  Ali  would  make  a  fire  in  the  fire- 
place, choose  the  best  taro  bulbs  from  our  food 
cupboard,  wrap  them  carefully  in  fresh  leaves, 
and  place  them  on  the  red-hot  stones.  When 
they  were  properly  roasted  she  would  take  them 
out  and  give  them  to  me,  tastefully  served  on  a 
pisang  leaf,  together  with  a  shell  full  of  the  milk 
of  young  cocoa-nuts. 

At  first  nothing  would  induce  her  to  eat  with 
me;  she  would  squat  down  before  me,  enjoying 
every  mouthful  of  bread  I  took,  her  eyes  reflecting 
my  glance,  her  face  reproducing  each  expression 
of  my  own. 

She  always  drew  back  shyly  whenever  I  tried 
to  make  her  join  me.  She  loved  me  too  well 
to  dishonour  me  by  letting  a  woman  eat  in  my 
presence — and  this  although  we  were  quite  alone. 


144    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

After  a  struggle  lasting  for  weeks,  I  persuaded 
her  to  break  this  rule ;  but  even  then  she  acquiesced 
only  from  necessity,  and  was  never  sure  but  that 
by  so  doing  she  might  be  causing  me  some  secret 
harm. 

Together  we  enlarged  our  garden,  together  we 
planted  taro  bulbs,  kneeling  with  our  backs  to 
the  sun,  sharing  every  labour,  every  pleasure. 

As  we  worked  thus,  day  after  day,  she  opened 
her  whole  mind  to  me. 

"Do  you  know  where  the  taro  bulb  came 
from?"  she  asked. 

I  did  not  know. 

"There  sat  an  owl  in  a  crevice  high  above  the 
ground.  It  sat  there  lonely  and  silent,  looking 
very  depressed.  The  other  birds  came  flying 
round  it  trying  to  make  it  laugh ;  but  it  could  not. 
The  crow  made  itself  black,  the  honey  bird  turned 
red,  and  the  dove  put  a  bump  on  its  nose ;  but  to 
no  effect. 

"At  last  came  a  little  green  parrot.  It  ducked 
itself  in  the  mud  under  the  mangroves,  and 
then  flew  up  and  sat  on  the  branch  before  the  owl, 
flapping  its  wings  so  that  the  mud  spurted  in  all 
directions. 

"That  made  the  owl  laugh  at  last.  It  opened 
its  beak  and  laughed.  In  so  doing  it  dropped 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  145 

something  out  of  its  nose.  The  parrot  seized  it 
and  swallowed  it. 

"The  parrot  flew  away;  and  shortly  afterwards 
dropped  something  on  the  ground.  Among  it 
was  that  which  the  owl  had  dropped  from  its  nose. 
It  took  root;  a  little  plant  grew  up;  men  found  it. 
It  was  the  taro  plant!" 

One  day,  at  sunset,  as  we  lay  outside  our 
cottage,  weary  and  well  fed,  gazing  up  at  the  tall 
trees  of  the  King's  cocoa-nut  grove,  which  ad- 
joined our  farm,  she  asked:  "Do  you  know  how- 
men  found  the  cocoa-nut  palm1?" 

I  did  not  know. 

"There  was  once  a  man,  and  his  wife  bore 
him  a  son.  When  he  was  big,  she  sent  him  out 
with  his  sling  to  kill  a  pigeon.  He  laughed  with 
joy,  took  his  canoe,  and  paddled  with  his  hands 
— for  at  that  time  there  were  no  paddles — over 
to  a  small  island  where  the  pigeons  were.  But 
on  the  way  a  shark  caught  him  and  swallowed 
both  him  and  his  canoe.  The  man  and  his  wife 
wept  and  cried  the  whole  night — but  their  son 
did  not  return.  But  the  shark  had  only  eaten 
the  boy's  body,  not  his  head.  And  one  day  it  was 
washed  up  on  the  shore,  where  the  father  found 
it  and  buried  it.  But  the  mother  sat  all  day 
and  all  night  by  the  grave,  crying  and  tearing 


146  VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

her  hair;  and  her  tears  fell  on  the  grave,  until  at 
last  there  grew  up  out  of  the  earth  a  tiny  plant. 
When  the  man  and  his  wife  saw  it,  they  carefully 
scraped  the  earth  to  one  side,  and  now  they  could 
see  quite  plainly  the  eyes,  nose,  and  mouth  of 
the  boy's  head;  it  had  taken  root  in  the  earth. 

"Then  said  the  mother:  'Let  it  grow;  we  will 
see  what  it  becomes !' 

"And  the  plant  became  a  tall  tree  which  bore 
fruit. 

"One  day  a  ripe  fruit  fell  down.  Although  it 
was  as  hard  as  a  man's  skull  they  broke  it  open 
and  ate  the  contents.  One  fruit  after  another 
fell  down,  and  they  all  tasted  good. 

"Thus  a  good  youth  gave  the  cocoa-nut  tree  to 
mankind." 

One  day  we  both  captured  one  of  the  little 
turtles  that  lay  basking  in  the  sun.  While  we 
were  carrying  it  home  she  asked :  "Do  you  know 
why  its  shell  is  too  short  at  the  neck*?" 

I  did  not  know. 

"There  was  an  animal  with  long  hind  legs 
and  short  forepaws. *  It  was  a  large  animal,  and 
could  jump  a  long,  long  way.  There  are  none 
upon  the  islands  now.  But  before  this  story 

1  Probably  the  kangaroo,   which  is   now   extinct   on  these 
Islands. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     147 

happened  its  forepaws  were  the  same  length  as 
its  hind  legs.  One  day  Longlegs  went  fishing 
out  by  the  reef,  together  with  his  comrades. 
Then  came  the  high  tide,  and  the  others  hurried 
back.  But  this  one  remained :  he  was  foolhardy, 
and  jumped  from  rock  to  rock,  making  fun  of 
the  fish  as  they  came  swimming  in  with  the  tide. 
He  did  not  notice  until  too  late  that  he  was  quite 
surrounded  by  the  water  and  could  not  come  back 
to  land.  Then  he  wept  and  begged  the  fish  to 
carry  him  in;  but  they  replied:  'You  mocked 
us  before;  now  you  can  help  yourself!'  " 

"At  last  a  good-natured  turtle  took  Longlegs 
upon  its  back  and  carried  him  to  land.  But  on 
the  way  Longlegs  gnawed  at  the  turtle's  shell  just 
by  the  neck.  The  turtle  became  angry,  and  in 
revenge  nibbled  at  the  other's  forepaws,  which 
were  clasped  round  the  turtle's  neck,  until  at  last 
they  became  quite  short. 

"When  they  reached  the  land,  Longlegs  jumped 
off  and  said:  'Just  look  at  your  neck,  Turtle, 
how  bare  and  uneven  it  has  become!'  But  the 
tortoise  replied:  'Just  look  at  your  forepaws, 
Longlegs,  how  short  they  have  become!' 

"And  that's  how  it  all  came  about!" 

Ali  looked  gravely  at  me  with  her  large  eyes 
when  the  story  was  finished,  and  frowned  because 


148    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

I     found     it     impossible     to     stop     laughing. 

One  day  Ali  came  and  put  a  string  round 
my  neck  which  she  had  made  from  cocoa-nut  fibre. 
It  was  smeared  with  lime,  and  had  an  unpleasant 
smell. 

"What's  that  for?" 

"That  is  a  charm  against  illness !  I  have  taken 
it  to  the  witch-doctor;  he  has  stroked  it  and  read 
words  over  it." 

I  had  not  the  heart  to  take  the  string  off 
when  I  saw  what  a  feeling  of  gladness  and 
security  it  gave  her.  Ali  objected  to  my  spitting 
when  any  one  else  was  present.  She  was  always 
trying  to  impress  upon  me  to  be  careful  about 
mumut,  so  that  no  one  should  find  anything  to 
throw  a  spell  over. 

Whenever  we  sat  outside  our  cottage  at  sunset, 
and  the  sudden  darkness  fell  upon  us,  her  eyes 
grew  frightened  and  she  pulled  me  by  my  arm 
into  the  cottage.  When  we  lay  at  night  upon 
our  mat,  and  I  got  up  to  fetch  anything  I  had 
forgotten  outside  our  bamboo  fence,  she  seized 
my  arm  and  begged  me  with  sobs  not  to  go  out 
into  the  night.  If  I  didn't  give  way  she  always 
went  out  with  me,  holding  tightly  to  my  arm  the 
whole  time,  so  that  if  one  of  the  wicked  dead 
men's  spirits — which  dwell  by  day  either  in  the 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  149 

breakers  on  the  reef  or  among  the  bottomless  man- 
grove swamps,  but  by  night  creep  round  about 
the  houses  seeking  to  ensnare  people  and  make 
them  ill — should  succeed  in  laying  hold  of 
me,  she  also  would  be  bewitched,  and  suffer  with 
me. 

There  are  two  different  kinds  of  spirits,  so 
Ali  has  taught  me.  There  are  the  spirits  of  the 
Great  Kings,  who,  coming  over  the  sea  from  the 
West,  were  the  first  to  discover  the  island,  take 
possession  of  it  and  cultivate  the  land.  They  are 
good  spirits;  and  it  is  their  house  which  stands 
by  itself  behind  the  King's  House,  and  is  the 
abode  of  the  witch-doctor,  who  attends  to  them 
and  fills  their  bowls  with  food,  in  return  for  which 
they  hear  his  prayers  and  direct  his  movements 
accordingly. 

The  witch-doctor  is  also  in  touch  with  nature's 
elemental  spirits,  some  of  which  are  good,  some 
evil. 

One  of  them  lives  in  the  moon;  you  can  see 
him  sitting  up  there  plaiting  strings  of  cocoa-nut 
fibre.  Another  lives  in  the  evening  star,  where 
he  brews  bad  weather.  But  the  one  that  lives 
in  the  morning  star  makes  good  weather  and 
causes  the  sun  to  shine. 

The  Milky  Way  is  also  full  of  spirits,  good 


150    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

and  evil.  At  intervals  they  rush  down  and  fetch 
a  human  being  they  have  chosen  for  sacrifice. 
Some  spirits  live  in  birds,  others  in  fish  or  trees. 
Some  of  them  are  visible  to  human  eyes:  Ali 
once  saw  one  sitting  on  the  beach  warming  itself 
in  the  sun.  It  had  hair  all  over  its  body. 

"There  is  so  much,  so  much  to  beware  of!" 
sighed  Ali,  looking  round  helplessly  with  anxious 
eyes.  "At  any  moment  an  evil  spirit  may  be  lying 
in  wait  for  you." 

I  sometimes  tried  seriously  to  reason  her  out 
of  these  unhappy  superstitions,  as  on  that  even- 
ing when  I  succeeded  in  quieting  her  and  Toko 
with  regard  to  the  sea-slug  witchcraft — but  she 
immediately  became  shy ;  looked  in  a  puzzled  and 
depressed  manner  at  me,  and  retired  into  her  shell, 
feeling  intuitively  for  a  moment  the  great  dis- 
similarity in  our  natures. 

I  ceased  to  argue  the  matter,  merely  assuring 
her  that  at  any  rate  she  need  not  worry  on  my 
behalf. 

But  she  did.  And,  after  all,  who  really  knows 
what  does  and  what  does  not  exist  in  this  world"? 

On  one  occasion  I  had  an  attack  of  fever.  I 
shivered  with  cold.  Everything  swam  before  my 
eyes.  I  was  compelled  to  go  to  bed,  covered  with 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     151 

all  the  clothes  and  blankets  I  could  find  in  my 
sea-chest. 

All  sat  by  my  side  with  wide,  terror-stricken 
eyes,  which  I  was  conscious  of  even  in  my 
delirium.  Her  expression  during  those  days  I 
have  never  forgotten. 

I  gave  her  my  hot  hands  to  hold;  I  could  feel 
how  she  shivered  in  sympathy  with  me,  while 
she  gurgled  in  her  throat  with  fear  and  excite- 
ment. 

She  talked  of  spirits  and  the  witch-doctor.  I 
knew  that  all  the  while  she  was  trying  to  think 
of  an  antidote  to  the  spell  which  she  was  con- 
vinced some  woman  or  other  had  cast  over  me. 

Finally  I  sent  her  to  fetch  Tongu,  so  that  he 
could  search  in  my  sea-chest  for  some  quinine,  the 
use  of  which  he  understood  from  his  residence  on 
Yap,  where  there  is  a  quinine  factory. 

She  rose  immediately,  but  stood  for  a  long  while 
hesitating  before  she  dared  release  my  hands. 
Finally  she  pressed  them  convulsively  to  her 
breast  and  hurried  away. 

I  don't  know  how  long  I  was  alone.  Suddenly 
I  heard  subdued  voices  outside,  and  the  door 
opened  to  admit  a  tall,  doubled-up,  emaciated 
figure  which  noiselessly  approached  my  mat,  Ali 


152  VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

remaining  in  the  background  with  large,  fright- 
ened eyes. 

I  had  never  seen  the  man  before.  As  he 
bent  over  me  I  observed  that  two  turtle-shell 
plates  hung  tinkling  from  holes  in  his  nostrils, 
while  his  long  black  beard,  arranged  in  three 
plaits,  reached  down  to  his  stomach. 

He  commenced  mumbling,  his  face  so  close 
to  mine  that  I  could  feel  his  breath.  Faster  and 
faster  he  mumbled,  at  the  same  time  fanning  my 
face  in  time  with  his  words. 

He  put  his  hand  on  my  forehead  and  combed 
my  cheeks  with  his  long  fingers;  but  I  was  too 
weak  to  make  any  resistance  whatever.  Then 
he  squatted  at  my  side  and  produced  from  his 
basket  one  extraordinary  article  after  another. 
A  pungent  smell  filled  the  air;  I  believe  it  was 
ginger.  In  addition,  there  was  betel^  and  various 
dried  herbs  and  leaves  which  I  did  not  recognize. 
He  took  each  thing  separately  and  chewed  it  to 
a  pulp,  afterwards  chewing  the  whole  lot  together. 
He  then  spat  the  resulting  cud  out  into  a  cocoa- 
nut  shell,  sprinkled  it  with  burnt  lime,  and  stirred 
it  well  together.  This  remarkable  preparation 
he  proceeded  to  smear  on  my  chest  and  arms,  after- 
wards kneading  it  in  thoroughly,  all  the  while 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     153 

mumbling  over  me,  in  tones  which  constantly 
varied  in  speed  and  power. 

I  remember  no  more ;  but  when  I  woke,  many 
hours  afterwards,  the  fever  was  gone,  though  I 
was  so  limp  and  weak  that  I  could  scarcely  lift 
my  hand. 

Ali  crouched  beside  me,  her  eyes  burning  into 
mine.  I  do  not  think  she  left  me  for  a  moment 
during  all  those  endless  hours. 

When  I  opened  my  eyes  and  looked  at  her  she 
uttered  a  scream  of  joy  and  threw  herself  upon 
my  breast,  long,  heartbreaking  sobs  shaking  her 
young,  strong  body. 


CHAPTER    TWELVE 

ONE   morning   when    I    awoke   All    wa* 
sitting   up   on   the   mat,   her   head   on 
her  knees,  crying  as  if  her  heart  would 
break,  her  whole  frame  quivering  with  emotion. 

I  raised  her  head  gently  and,  taking  her  hands 
from  her  face,  asked  what  the  trouble  was. 

"I  dreamed  that  I  was  a  'joyless  widow' !" 
Having  said  this,  she  flung  herself  upon  me,  and 
literally  howled. 

On  the  previous  day  we  had  met  one  of  these 
women,  Ikala  by  name,  a  tall,  dark  personage 
with  large  shells  in  her  ears  and  a  brilliantly 
coloured  skirt.  She  walked  by  herself,  swaying 
on  her  wide,  full  hips,  singing  a  low,  monotonous 
song  without  moving  her  thick,  half-parted  lips. 
As  she  passed,  her  eyes  glanced  at  me  from  under 
their  heavy  lids  with  a  strangely  quiet,  seductive 
stare.  At  sight  of  Ali  she  smiled  slightly,  a  touch 
of  contempt  in  the  corners  of  her  wide  mouth. 

Slight  as  it  was,  Ali  noticed  the  smile,  and  was 
silent  long  afterwards.     It  made  a  deep  impres- 
154 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     155 

sion  upon  her — and  now  she  had  also  dreamt 
about  it. 

I  did  my  best  to  comfort  her,  but  her  mind 
was  so  positive  and  straightforward  that  she  was 
very  difficult  to  influence. 

"Why  trouble  about  a  silly  dream?  Why 
should  you  become  a  joyless  widow1?" 

She  lifted  her  head,  the  blood  flaming  to  her 
large  tear-filled  eyes,  and  answered: 

"I  go  to  the  Women's  House  today !" 

Ali  had  been  there  twice  since  our  marriage, 
and  she  had  passed  the  last  few  days  in  a  state 
of  quivering  suspense  because  of  her  third  visit 
being  delayed.  But  now  she  knew  that  her  hopes 
were  vain,  and  that  she  must  go  there  again. 

"Ikala  has  looked  at  me !" 1  she  screamed, 
wildly  tearing  her  hair. 

I  laughed  loudly,  sang  at  the  top  of  my  voice, 
and  kicked  my  legs.  But  she  ignored  my  at- 
tempts to  divert  her. 

"Didn't  you  see  how  she  stared  at  me  and 
smiled*?"  she  demanded,  shaking  me  passionately 
by  the  arm. 

"She  looked  at  me  too !" 

"Yes,"  she  said  thoughtfully,  "she  has  also 
1  i.e.  cast  a  spell. 


156    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

bewitched  you.  For  if  you  had  had  a  child,  then 
I  must  have  had  it  too!" 

Failing  to  bring  her  to  reason,  I  got  up,  left 
the  cottage,  and  walked  towards  the  stockade- 
gate. 

"Where  are  you  going?'  she  cried,  stretching 
out  her  arms  in  terror. 

"Down  to  the  beach  for  a  swim !"  I  replied. 

"Don't  leave  me!"  she  pleaded,  running  and 
seizing  me  tightly  round  the  body  with  her  arms. 

"All  right,  only  you  must  be  quiet  and 
sensible." 

She  gazed  at  me  for  some  moments  in  silent 
anguish;  then  she  dried  her  eyes,  and  began 
quietly  making  preparations  for  breakfast. 
Shortly  afterwards  she  came  to  the  door  and,  look- 
ing anxiously  about  to  make  sure  I  was  still  there, 
asked:  "How  will  you  manage  when  I  go  to  the 
Women's  House?' 

"I  managed  all  right  the  other  times !"  I  said, 
laughing.  "If  there  is  any  difficulty,  Toko  will 
come  and  help." 

She  looked  piercingly  at  me  and  said  in  a  low 
voice : 

"Have  you  prayed  to  your  spirits  that  I  may 
have  a  child?" 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  157 

"Not  yet,  but  I  will  some  time.  There  is  no 
hurry!" 

She  looked  at  me  in  astonishment. 

"No  hurry?"  she  asked  uncomprehendingly. 
I  drew  her  to  me  and  patted  her  cheek  gently. 

"Would  it  be  such  a  terrible  thing  if  we  never 
had  a  child  at  all?" 

She  gave  a  violent  start,  and  her  eyes  flamed 
again  as  she  clutched  my  arm,  ejaculating  chok- 
ingly :  "You  must  be  tired  of  me,  to  say  such  a 
thing!" 

I  put  my  arm  round  her  waist  and  looked 
steadily  into  her  eyes,  until  she  understood  that 
I  loved  her  now,  as  I  had  always  loved  her. 
Nevertheless,  she  sighed  deeply  and  repeated 
several  times:  "Of  what  use  to  you  is  a  child- 
less woman?" 

When  I  held  her  tightly  to  me  without  speak- 
ing, she  continued:  "Ought  you  to  pay  a  big, 
big  tabu  for  a  woman  who  does  not  give  you 
children?" 

She  threw  back  her  head  and,  looking  before 
her  with  a  hard,  almost  cruel  expression  on  her 
face,  said  in  a  changed  voice:  "When  a  woman 
is  childless  her  husband  tells  her  to  leave  him!" 
Suiting  her  actions  to  her  words,  she  repulsed  me 


158    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

with  her  palms  against  my  breast.  "I  bought  you 
to  breed  children  of  my  blood  for  my  old  age  and 
for  my  race.  Go  back  to  your  father  and  tell 
him  that  I  will  have  my  tabu  returned.  Then  I 
will  send  him  back  his  daughter  that  he  may  sell 
her  to  another,  for  she  will  give  me  no  children!" 

"And  what  then*?"  I  demanded. 

"Then  she  returns  to  her  father,"  Ali  continued 
in  a  more  normal  voice.  "  'What  do  you  want*?' 
asks  her  father.  1  have  not  given  my  husband 
children,'  she  replies,  'and  he  has  sent  me  back!' 
'You  wicked  woman!'  says  her  father,  and  gives 
her  a  thrashing,  and  no  food  for  several  days; 
and  pays  the  tabu  back.  Then  he  seeks  a  new 
buyer ;  but  no  one  will  buy  a  barren  woman.  She 
sits  alone  before  her  father's  hut,  weaving  mats 
and  weeping;  but  no  husband  comes." 

"And  what  more*?"  I  persisted,  stifling  her  sobs 
by  pressing  her  affectionately  to  me. 

"  'Go  out  on  the  road,'  says  her  father,  'joyless 
widow  without  fruit !  Go  out  and  do  tricks  for 
the  old  men!'  " 

"Then  she  goes  out  on  the  road  and  sneaks 
about  the  huts ;  and  when  she  meets  a  lonely  man, 
whose  mate  is  at  the  Women's  House,  she  beckons 
to  him,  and  coaxes  him  till  he  follows  her  to  her 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  159 

hut.  And  he  gives  her  a  little  tabu  which  she 
gives  to  her  father  as  part  of  the  big  tabu  she 
has  caused  him  to  lose.  She  goes  about  accosting 
old  men  as  they  lie  warming  their  limbs  in  the 
midday  sun;  she  rouses  their  desires — pale,  feeble 
ghosts  of  their  youthful  passions.  Thus  she  goes 
from  door  to  door,  from  mat  to  mat,  until  at  last 
she  pays  back  her  father's  tabu" 

So  saying,  Ali  threw  herself  face  downwards 
on  the  ground,  sobbing  as  though  her  heart  would 
break.  "I  will  not  be  a  joyless  widow !"  she  cried. 

I  lifted  her  up,  calling  her  by  every  term  of 
endearment  that  I  knew — her  favourite  birds,  her 
best  flowers.  "I  will  never  send  you  away,  Ali !" 

But  she  looked  straight  at  me,  with  an  almost 
cruel  expression,  and  answered  harshly:  "Are 
you,  who  are  so  great  and  good,  to  remain  child- 
less for  a  woman's  sake?  Your  blood  shall  live 
again  in  your  children;  children  shall  brighten 
your  old  age.  You  must  kill  me  if  I  have  no 
child." 

She  threw  herself  upon  me  and  made  me  promise 
to  kill  her  if  she  gave  me  no  children.  Rather 
death  a  hundred  times  than  be  a  joyless  widow! 

I  was  compelled  to  promise  before  she  would 
give  me  any  peace.. 


160    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

Then  I  accompanied  her  to  the  outskirts  of 
the  wood,  which  was  as  far  as  I  was  allowed  to 
go.  We  said  good-bye  as  if  for  ever;  I  stood 
looking  after  her  until  the  liana  trees  swallowed 
her  up.  She  did  not  once  look  back. 


CHAPTER    THIRTEEN 

ONE  day  during  All's  stay  at  the  Women's 
House  I  was  lying  down  in  the  shadow 
of  the  house  dozing  after  dinner. 
Suddenly  something  rattled  outside  the  bamboo 
stockade.  I  looked  up,  but  the  noise  ceased. 
Presently  it  came  again,  and  I  sprang  to  the  door 
and  looked  out. 

At  first  I  could  see  nothing,  but  a  moment  later 
Winawa  appeared.  She  smiled  at  me  and  came 
nearer,  swaying  in  her  peculiar,  indolent  manner, 
as  though  her  body  were  too  heavy  for  her  hips. 
When  quite  close,  she  stopped,  and  stood  looking 
sideways  at  me  with  those  extraordinary  eyes  of 
hers,  that  seemed  to  vibrate  in  time  with  her 
pulse. 

Upon  my  nodding  to  her  she  came  right  up  to 
me  and  stretched  out  her  hand.  Her  lips  turned 
bluish,  and  her  eyes  translucent — which  was  her 
way  of  blushing;  then  she  showed  me  what  was 
in  her  hand. 

It  was  a  piece  of  kawa-TOOt. 
161 


162  VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

"Shall  I  chew  it  for  you?'  she  asked,  casting 
down  her  eyes,  just  as  she  did  the  time  before  in 
the  fields  with  the  others. 

Winawa  no  longer  attracted  me.  Since  marry- 
ing Ali,  I  had  no  eyes  for  other  women. 

I  suspected  Winawa  of  being  jealous  of  Ali's 
happiness,  and  therefore  desirous  of  tempting 
me  again;  for  Toko  was  perfectly  content  with 
her,  which  he  would  not  have  been  if  she  were 
really  in  love  with  me.  But  she  was  of  an  en- 
vious disposition,  in  spite  of  her  beauty. 

I  snatched  the  kawa-Toot  from  her  and  flung  it 
far  away  among  the  trees. 

Winawa's  whole  manner  changed  immediately : 
she  drew  herself  to  her  full  height,  her  hands 
clenched,  her  lips  tightened  in  a  thin,  straight  line. 
For  a  moment  she  remained  thus;  then  gliding 
past  me  in  a  half-circle,  her  eyes  fixed  on  mine,  she 
hissed,  with  a  poisonous  smile :  "I  have  practised 
purmea  over  your  wife,  so  that  she  shall  bear  you 
no  children!" 

So  saying  she  ran  off  at  full  speed  through  the 
brushwood,  and  disappeared  from  sight. 

Her  words  pierced  my  heart,  as  they  were 
meant  to;  but,  annoyed  at  my  own  stupidity,  I 
quickly  dismissed  the  matter  from  my  mind. 

The  next  day  Ali  returned.     When  I  heard  her 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     163 

call  from  afar  in  her  clear,  musical  voice,  I  ran 
forward  as  fast  as  I  could  through  the  tangled 
undergrowth. 

Soon  I  saw  her.  She  stretched  out  both  arms 
towards  me,  throwing  back  her  head,  her  hair  in 
a  halo,  her  whole  face  beaming  with  smiles. 

"You  are  good !"  she  shouted.  It  was  her  usual 
love-call. 

I  rushed  up  to  her  and  lifted  her  off  her  feet; 
she  clung  convulsively  to  me,  laughing  and  crying 
brokenly  in  her  throat.  .  .  . 

Presently  she  made  a  hurried  tour  of  the  house 
and  yard  to  see  how  I  had  managed  without  her. 
She  chattered  incessantly,  raining  questions  upon 
me.  She  called  to  the  hens,  gave  them  taro 
crumbs,  and  declared  that  the  chickens  had  grown. 
She  stood  with  her  arms  akimbo  and  shrieked  with 
laughter  when  she  found  that  I  had  scraped 
toasted  taro  bulbs  with  my  ax,  instead  of  with 
the  cocoa-nut-shell  scraper  which  I  could  not  find. 
She  frowned  disapprovingly  because  I  had  left 
some  gnawed  chicken  bones  lying  on  the  leaf  I 
used  for  a  plate.  That  was  careless,  for  it  was 
mumut.  She  insisted  on  my  helping  her  to  count 
the  bones  to  see  whether  any  of  them  had  been 
stolen  by  some  one  desiring  to  practise  purmea 
upon  them. 


164    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

As  the  magic  word  passed  her  lips  she  became 
suddenly  serious.  She  turned  from  the  food- 
shelves,  seized  my  arm,  and  told  me  how,  when 
she  arrived  at  the  Women's  House,  she  met 
Winawa,  who  was  just  leaving. 

They  came  face  to  face  just  outside  the  door. 
Ali,  ashamed  of  still  being  a  visitor  to  the 
Women's  House  after  three  full  months  of 
married  life,  tried  to  hide  behind  some  other 
women  who  were  entering,  and  thus  sneak  past 
Winawa  unobserved.  But  the  latter  had  already 
seen  her.  "Ai !"  she  shouted,  "there  is  the  Brown 
Earth's  woman.  She  has  been  married  for  more 
than  three  new  moons,  and  yet  comes  here  still. 
What  is  the  matter  with  you*?  Has  the  Brown 
Earth  already  deserted  you  for  another,  or  has 
some  one  practised  purmea  upon  your  body?" 

Ali  restrained  herself,  and  walked  past  her  rival 
without  speaking.  At  this  Winawa  shouted: 
"Look  at  the  withered  leaf;  how  proud  she  is! 
But  it  is  I  who  found  her  mumut,  and  now  she  is 
barren  as  a  stone !" 

Ali  shrieked,  and  would  have  attacked  her,  but 
she  was  already  gone.  Only  her  pealing  laughter 
filled  the  air. 

Now  I  understood  why  Winawa  had  come  to 
my  cottage.  I  was  very  glad  indeed  that  I  had 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  165 

repulsed  her.     But  I  did  not  consider  it  wise  to 
tell  Ali  of  her  visit. 


Ali  gave  me  no  peace  until  I  promised  to 
take  her  to  the  witch-doctor,  Kabua-Kenka,  the 
guardian  of  the  House  of  the  Spirits,  situated 
beyond  the  King's  cocoa-nut  grove. 

One  morning  early  she  put  on  a  new,  plaited 
loin-skirt,  thrust  fresh-plucked  flowers  in  her  hair 
and  ears,  and  smeared  herself  carefully  with  cocoa- 
nut  oil  on  hair,  arms,  and  breasts. 

It  is  not  seemly  to  visit  the  witch-doctor  save 
in  gala  dress.  Otherwise  the  forefathers'  spirits, 
with  whom  he  associates,  and  who  eat  from  his 
hand,  might  take  offence,  and  refuse  their  help. 

I  had  to  have  an  extra  coat  of  colouring  lest 
the  spirits  should  discover  my  foreign  skin  and 
perhaps  be  frightened  away.  One  never  knew 
in  what  kind  of  mood  they  might  be. 

Ali  impressed  upon  me  that,  in  the  event  of 
the  spell  being  a  failure,  we  should  later  on  blame 
ourselves  severely  for  having  neglected  some  point 
of  etiquette,  thus  necessitating  a  repetition  of  the 
whole  ceremony. 

The  witch-doctor  is  very  expensive.  In  ad- 
dition, he  must  be  paid  in  advance  and  does  not 
guarantee  results.  If  the  spell  is  a  failure  it  is 


166    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

obviously  the  customer's  own  fault;  perhaps  he 
has,  in  entering  the  hut,  put  his  right  foot  fore- 
most instead  of  his  left;  or  perhaps  he  has  been 
grudging  in  his  offering  to  the  spirits'  food-bowl. 

No  breakfast  was  permitted.  It  is  necessary 
to  fast  that  the  spell  may  work  properly.  Ali 
did  not  leave  me  alone  for  one  instant,  fearing 
that  I  would  snatch  a  stolen  mouthful  of  some- 
thing or  other.  She  was  aware  of  my  reckless 
agnosticism. 

My  assurance  of  a  sleepless  night,  spent  in 
ceaseless  communion  with  the  spirits  of  my  own 
race,  did  not  shake  her  one  atom.  She  was  glad 
and  thankful  for  it,  but  insisted  that  as  it  was  she 
who  should  bear  the  child,  it  must  therefore  be 
the  business  of  her  spirits  to  look  after  the  matter ; 
otherwise,  perhaps  I  would  have  a  child  but  not 
she.  Especially  now  that  Winawa's  evil  spell 
must  be  exorcized. 


CHAPTER   FOURTEEN 

A  LI  was  very  serious  when  we  set  out, 
each  carrying  a  basket  filled  with  gifts 
and  tabu.  There  was  food  for  the 
spirits'  eating-bowl:  four  freshly  killed  young 
hens,  eight  flying-fish,  and  a  quantity  of  the  best 
cocoa-nuts  obtainable;  in  addition,  two  pokon 
tabu,  which  Tongu  had  paid  me  for  painting  his 
canoe  with  European  designs,  far  superior  to  any 
native  workmanship. 

All  the  way  along  the  fence  enclosing  the 
King's  cocoa-nut  grove,  Ali  maintained  a  dead 
silence;  when  we  reached  the  path  which  leads 
through  the  woods  to  the  House  of  the  Spirits 
she  began  to  tremble  violently;  but  when  we  at 
last  stood  before  the  door  of  the  dirty,  insignifi- 
cant building,  her  teeth  chattered  with  terror  and 
suspense.  Her  future  happiness,  nay,  her  very 
life,  hung  in  the  balance ! 

The  witch-doctor  is  a  much-feared  man; 
women  make  a  big  detour  when  they  see  him  ap- 
proach, carrying  his  fan,  his  arm-basket,  and  his 
167 


168    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

folded  mat,  the  emblems  of  his  profession;  while 
children  scream  and  run  like  frightened  chickens 
the  moment  they  set  eyes  on  his  long,  plaited 
beard. 

I  had  to  shout  Kabua-Kenka's  name  three  times 
before  he  at  last  appeared  in  the  doorway,  gnaw- 
ing a  /tfro-root,  the  turtle-shell  plates  in  his  nose 
clashing  and  jingling  against  one  another.  I  rec- 
ognized at  once  the  doubled-up,  emaciated  old 
man  with  sunken  temples  and  white  hair  who 
had  visited  me  during  my  illness. 

He  cast  a  keen,  suspicious  look  at  me,  as  if 
wondering  whether  or  not  to  believe  the  gossip 
which  he  had  doubtless  heard  about  me.  His 
filthy  fingers  fumbled  with  his  beard,  but  Ali, 
sensing  his  distrust,  hastened  to  assure  him  that 
I  was  a  good  man,  who  had  come  with  offerings 
for  the  spirits. 

She  emphasized  her  words  by  opening  the 
basket  and  displaying  to  the  holy  man  the  deli- 
cious young  hens  and  the  fresh  flying-fish.  The 
old  man  smacked  his  lips  loudly,  and  without  a 
word  stood  aside,  giving  us  entry  into  the  sanctu- 
ary. 

It  stank  of  the  most  incredible  contents,  so  that 
I  almost  swooned:  a  pig  grunted  softly  some- 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     169 

where  behind  a  hung-up  mat,  a  rat  poked  its  nose 
through  a  hole  in  the  bamboo  wall,  where  it  stared 
at  us  for  some  moments  with  the  same  suspicious 
expression  as  its  master,  before  condescending  to 
retire  from  view. 

After  a  while,  having  become  more  accustomed 
to  the  atmospheric  conditions,  I  began  looking 
about  me.  From  the  low  ceiling  hung  row  after 
row  of  strange  plants  and  herbs,  among  which  I 
recognized  the  £<?/<?/-leaf  and  ginger  root;  also 
numerous  small  pieces  of  bark  dangled  from 
rotang  strings,  as  well  as  dried  flowers,  among 
them  the  hibiscus  and  many  others  I  did  not  know. 
The  latter  were  evidently  the  source  of  the  multi- 
tudinous spiced  odours  which  filled  the  air,  min- 
gling with  a  rotten,  sickly  smell  emanating  from 
some  large  bowls  hollowed  out  of  wood,  which 
were  placed  near  some  carved  blocks  whose  sig- 
nificance I  did  not  grasp,  until  I  suddenly  caught 
sight  of  something  resembling  a  nose,  together 
with  curvings  of  arms  and  legs. 

They  were  the  images  of  the  Great  Kings,  four 
of  them,  standing  in  a  row  round  the  walls,  each 
with  his  wooden  bowl  by  his  side,  silent  and  mo- 
tionless, caked  with  the  dirt  of  countless  years. 

Two  of  the  bowls  were  empty,  but  the  other 


170    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

two  spirits  had  been  less  ravenous,  broken  remains 
of  taro  bread,  fish,  and  fermenting  bananas  lying 
neglected  and  uneaten. 

Ali,  ignoring  me  completely,  threw  herself 
down  on  her  hands  before  the  largest  image  and 
began  mumbling  in  a  low  voice.  Then  she  emp- 
tied the  contents  of  the  baskets  into  the  wooden 
bowls,  putting  an  equal  share  in  each.  Now  I 
understood  why  exactly  four  of  our  young  hens 
were  cut  off  in  the  flower  of  their  youth :  each  of 
the  Great  Kings'  spirits  must  receive  one,  in  order 
that  none  should  feel  slighted,  and  so  oppose  our 
desires. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  old  man  had  squatted 
on  his  mat,  where  he  kept  a  sharp  eye  upon  the 
offerings.  When  Ali  had  finished  she  threw  an 
anxious  glance  at  his  face;  and,  observing  a 
satisfied  gleam  in  his  small,  piercing  eyes,  she 
jumped  to  her  feet  with  a  smile  of  relief,  and 
nudged  me  with  her  elbow. 

Then,  according  to  agreement,  I  made  a  speech : 
I  had  come  with  my  wife  to  the  Great  Kings'  dis- 
tinguished priest  and  wizard  to  beseech  him,  by 
means  of  the  witchcraft  and  formulse  taught  him 
by  his  father, 1  to  cast  a  spell  over  her  body  that 
she  might  bear  me  a  child,  preferably  a  son.  The 
1  The  office  is  hereditary. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  171 

cause  of  my  wife's  sterility  was  this:  that  an- 
other woman  had  cast  a  spell  over  her,  so  that, 
although  already  married  for  more  than  three  new 
moons,  she  was  not  yet  with  child. 

"That  will  be  two  pokon!"  said  the  old  man 
in  a  business-like  voice,  holding  out  his  hand. 

All  had  evidently  ascertained  the  price,  for 
that  was  the  exact  sum  we  had  brought  with  us. 
I  measured  the  money  out  to  him;  he  held  the 
strings  close  to  his  eyes,  running  the  smooth  shells 
through  his  dry,  stiff  fingers,  and  depositing  them 
finally  in  a  basket  at  his  feet. 

As  I  had  expected,  he  now  made  a  sign  to  me 
to  leave  the  hut,  but  I  had  made  up  my  mind 
beforehand  to  be  present  at  the  ceremony. 
Granted  that  Ali  was  thoroughly  trustworthy 
and  Kabua-Kenka  old,  ugly,  dirty  and  repulsive, 
judged  even  by  native  standards,  one  could  not 
nevertheless  know  what  it  might  occur  to  him  to 
suggest  to  the  girl,  who,  for  her  part,  would 
certainly  agree  blindly  to  whatever  the  witch- 
doctor stated  that  the  spirits  demanded. 

Instead  of  going,  therefore,  I  calmly  squatted 
on  the  floor  by  the  door,  and  began  to  make  a 
betel  quid. 

The  old  man  was  thunderstruck,  and  Ali — 
despite  her  dread  of  being  left  alone  with  him 


172  VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

— frowned  at  my  disobedience.  When,  how- 
ever, I  remained  where  I  was,  looking  as  though 
nothing  could  be  wrong,  a  faint  smile  of  under- 
standing slid  over  the  old  thief's  countenance. 

He  took  a  mat  down  from  a  beam  in  the  roof, 
cleared  with  his  feet  a  space  on  the  filthy  floor, 
spread  the  mat  out,  and  with  a  wave  of  the  hand 
invited  Ali  to  lie  at  full  length  on  her  back. 

Next  he  lifted  one  of  the  wooden  spirits,  whose 
male  sex  was  indicated  in  an  unmistakable  manner, 
and  placed  it  at  the  foot  of  the  mat,  while  an- 
other one,  obviously  a  female,  was  placed  at  Ali's 
head. 

The  girl's  whole  body  shook  with  fear.  Her 
terror-stricken  eyes  sought  mine,  seeming  to  say 
that  she  could  already  feel  that  the  spirits  had 
taken  possession  of  her  from  head  to  foot. 

Kabua-Kenka  suddenly  shook  off  his  lethargy; 
with  a  speed  of  which  I  imagined  his  stiff  joints 
incapable  he  cut  triangles  in  three  or  four  of  the 
cocoa-nuts  we  had  brought.  Whispering  incom- 
prehensible magic  words,  he  poured  some  of  the 
milk  over  the  heads  of  the  two  gods,  drank  some 
himself,  and  poured  a  little  down  Ali's  throat, 
causing  her  to  choke  and  double  up  before  she 
succeeded  in  swallowing  it. 

Having  done  this,  he  put  the  rest  of  the  milk 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     173 

in  a  bowl  which  he  took  from  a  shelf,  at  the 
same  time  picking  some  of  the  leaves  and  herbs 
hanging  from  the  roof.  Thrusting  them  in  his 
mouth,  he  chewed  them  rapidly,  without,  how- 
ever, for  a  moment  ceasing  his  mumbling  incanta- 
tion. He  then  put  the  bowl  between  his  knees; 
and  after  breaking  pieces  of  a  dried  root  into 
it,  he  grated  some  cocoa-nut  over  them  with  a 
large,  rough  stone,  finally  taking  the  rotting 
banana  left  by  one  of  the  gods,  mumbling  over  it, 
and  twisting  it  rapidly  under  his  nose  until  his 
eyes  started  from  his  head,  dull  and  lifeless,  re- 
sembling balls  of  lead.  When  he  had  finished 
chewing  the  leaves  and  herbs  he  spat  them  out  into 
the  bowl,  which  was  now  filled  with  a  sloppy, 
dark  brown  mixture,  from  which  ascended  such 
a  revolting  stench  that  all  other  smells  in  the 
foetid  chamber  shrank  into  insignificance. 

Overcome  with  nausea  and  disgust,  I  was  about 
to  spring  forward  and  interfere,  when  my  glance 
fell  on  Ali. 

She  lay  there  with  her  mouth  wide  open,  her 
eyes  shut,  arms  and  legs  outstretched,  as  lifeless 
as  a  stone.  Only  a  slight  movement  of  her 
breast  showed  that  she  still  lived.  I  sank  back 
breathless  and  frightened,  impressed  against  my 
will  by  her  mysterious  sleep. 


174  VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

Without  for  one  moment  ceasing  his  mum- 
bling, which  rose  and  fell  in  regular  cadence  like 
a  snore  of  mingled  lip,  nose,  and  throat  noises, 
the  magician  now  knelt  down  close  by  All's  side. 
With  trembling  fingers  he  raised  her  hips,  untied 
her  loin-skirt  and  took  it  off,  so  that  she  lay  quite 
naked  before  him.  Then,  seizing  the  bowl,  he 
made  a  couple  of  rapid  passes  with  it,  beginning 
at  one  wooden  god  and  finishing  at  the  other, 
before  suddenly  flinging  the  whole  contents  over 
her  stomach. 

I  was  chained  to  the  spot;  my  eyes  stared 
rigidly,  seeing  everything  through  a  haze.  I 
told  myself  that  the  whole  thing  was  madness, 
trying  to  rouse  myself  and  laugh  it  off;  but  I 
was  numbed  and  helpless,  my  thoughts  dying  still- 
born, unformed  and  lifeless. 

Quicker  than  words  can  tell  he  rubbed  the  mess 
over  the  lower  part  of  her  body,  which  began  to 
rise  and  fall  spasmodically.  With  the  palms 
of  his  hands  he  stroked  up  and  down,  keeping  time 
with  her  movements,  which  rapidly  increased  in 
violence  and  irregularity.  She  shook  all  over  as 
if  with  ague,  her  knees  jerked,  her  legs  doubled 
up,  her  feet  contracted  convulsively  with  bent, 
distorted  toes. 

Presently  her  breathing  became  more  regular, 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     175 

her  body  rising  and  falling  in  time  with  the 
magician's  stroking.  Her  breast  heaved,  her  eye- 
lids quivered,  her  breath  sighed  through  the  strug- 
gling nostrils,  forcing  its  way  down  the  wind- 
pipe with  a  horrid  gurgling  noise,  which  chilled 
my  blood. 

Abruptly  the  witch-doctor  ceased  his  move- 
ments and  sat  back  on  his  haunches.  Simultane- 
ously Ali's  limbs  and  body  relaxed,  collapsing  in 
a  lifeless  bundle  on  the  mat,  while  a  long,  moan- 
ing sigh  issued  from  her  foam-flecked  lips. 

The  old  man  wiped  his  steaming  forehead. 
Tears  of  relief  streamed  from  my  eyes,  a  heavy 
weight  seemed  to  fall  from  my  heart.  But  Ali 
still  lay  unconscious. 

Then  he  bent  once  more  over  her,  carefully 
wiped  the  brown  mixture  from  her  body,  laid 
the  skirt  over  her  loins,  lifted  her  limp  head,  and 
poured  some  fresh  cocoa-nut  milk  down  her  throat. 

Ali  awoke,  and  looked  round  dazedly  with 
great,  unseeing  eyes.  Only  after  the  old  man 
had  plied  her  with  questions,  asking  her  whether 
she  was  tired,  or  whether  she  was  in  pain,  did 
consciousness  completely  return.  When  her  gaze 
at  last  fell  on  me,  she  half-stretched  out  a  limp, 
feeble  hand,  and  a  smile  of  happiness  overspread 
her  face. 


CHAPTER    FIFTEEN 

IN  the  weeks  following  her  visit  to  the  witch- 
doctor, Ali  went  about  with  an  expression 
of  confidence  and  joyful  anticipation.  I, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  extremely  afraid  of  the 
results  in  the  event  of  the  spell  failing. 

Her  personality  was  so  intense — she  put  every 
drop  of  blood  into  the  passion  of  the  moment, 
be  it  hope,  love,  or  hate — that  I  was  afraid  she 
might,  so  to  speak,  bleed  to  death,  if  her  heart's 
desire  should  fail  her. 

I  tried  several  times  to  prepare  her  for  a  dis- 
appointment, and  often,  as  we  lay  side  by  side 
in  the  shadow  of  our  house,  gazing  idly  up  at  the 
swaying  tree-tops  and  listening  to  the  gentle 
breathing  of  the  breakers  on  the  reef,  I  reminded 
her  how  happy  we  had  always  been,  we  two  quite 
alone. 

I  believed  that  the  fear  of  being  sent  back  to 

her  father  in  the  event  of  not  bearing  me  a  child 

was  the  cause  of  her  anxiety.     I  therefore  always 

impressed  upon  her  in  every  possible  manner  that 

176 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  177 

I  could  not  get  along  without  her.  How  could 
I  possibly  manage  the  house  and  farm  and  faro 
field,  if  she  were  to  die  or  leave  me? 

When  I  spoke  thus,  she  would  look  up  with 
shining  eyes  and  parted  lips.  But  whenever  I 
hinted  that  a  child  would  only  be  an  encum- 
brance, in  that  she  must  look  after  it  instead  of 
me,  her  lips  would  tighten  obstinately,  and  her 
expression  become  puzzled  and  gloomy. 

"How  could  I  forget  you  for  your  child?"  she 
said  once.  "Is  it  not  you  I  make  again?" 

She  looked  thoughtful  for  a  moment,  then  her 
face  lighted  up.  Taking  my  hand  in  hers  she 
said :  "Do  you  forget  your  hand  for  your  head?" 
She  placed  her  hands  on  my  neck,  and  continued 
with  a  broad  smile:  "Do  you  forget  your  head 
for  your  heart?" 

Then  she  suddenly  became  serious  again,  and 
with  the  utmost  nonchalance  said :  "How  could 
I  keep  you  always  if  I  could  not  take  you  to  me 
whenever  I  wished  and  make  you  again?" 

I  folded  her  in  my  arms  and  prayed  to  all  the 
good  spirits  that  she  might  not  be  disappointed. 

What  it  was  that  made  the  difference  I  do  not 
know,  but,  a  month  after  her  last  visit  to  the 


178    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

Women's  House,  All  discovered  that  she  was  with 
child. 

She,  who  had  already  taken  joy  by  the  fore- 
lock, took  it  as  a  matter  of  course;  but  I  was 
amazed  and  delighted. 

Ali  became  quiet  and  thoughtful.  She  took 
great  care  of  herself,  and  often  sat  with  her  hands 
in  her  lap  looking  straight  before  her,  silent  and 
distrait,  as  if  listening  for  something. 

She  would  not  allow  me  to  take  a  share  of 
her  work,  but  carried  out  all  her  daily  duties  with 
her  customary  care  and  thoroughness.  In  the 
evening,  however,  when  we  lay  with  our  hands 
behind  our  heads  in  the  shadow  of  our  house, 
her  eyes  never  for  a  moment  left  my  face. 

Every  time  I  turned  I  found  them  staring  into 
mine,  shining  with  such  unalloyed  happiness  and 
peace  that  my  heart  thrilled  with  tenderness.  I 
have  never  seen  that  look  in  any  other  woman's 
eyes.  My  mother's  eyes  I  remember  but  dimly. 

One  morning  Ali  captured  one  of  our  young 
cocks,  and,  regardless  of  its  pecking  and  shriek- 
ing, held  it  fast  between  her  knees  and  pulled 
out  two  tail-feathers,  one  green  and  one  red. 
This  done,  she  let  the  bird  go  again,  and  walked 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     179 

proudly  up  to  me,  the  feathers  stuck  in  her  hair. 

"Why  did  you  do  that?"  I  asked,  astonished. 

"It  will  be  a  son  now!"  she  said.  "I  have 
dreamt  it !" 

Ali  never  did  anything  without  first  con- 
sidering whether  it  could  harm  "him."  She  care- 
fully destroyed  every  trace  of  mumut,  burning 
all  half-gnawed  fish  or  chicken  bones  and  never 
by  any  chance  leaving  a  mouthful  of  food  on  her 
plate.  Also  she  seldom  went  beyond  our  stock- 
ade, for  fear  her  footmarks  might  be  found  by 
some  jealous  person  or  spirit,  and  through  them 
the  child  in  her  body  bewitched. 

As  a  little  girl  in  the  King's  House  she  had 
heard  all  sorts  of  women's  gossip:  for  example, 
that  when  a  pregnant  woman  ate  lots  of  yam  roots 
her  child  would  be  thin  and  lanky;  that  faro 
would  make  the  child  short  and  fat.  Ali  there- 
fore scrupulously  avoided  both  yams  and  faro. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  fish  diet  made  the  child 
clever,  while  fowl-flesh  gave  it  a  strong  will. 
Ali  therefore  lived  mostly  on  fish  and  fowls; 
adding  also  bananas,  which  ensured  the  child  a 
kind  and  calm  disposition,  and  cocoa-nuts,  which 
ensured  good  and  plentiful  suck. 

She  dared  not  eat  pork,  because  she  had  heard 
of  a  woman  doing  so  who  had  a  child  with 


i8o    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

pig's    bristles    on    its    body    instead    of    hair. 

The  days  followed  one  another  in  a  long  and 
happy  sequence.  We  had  a  good  monsoon,  with 
plenty  of  calm  weather — a  little  rain  occasion- 
ally, but  practically  no  storms.  We  had  not 
had  a  real  hurricane  all  the  time  I  had  been  on 
the  island. 

One  night  I  was  awakened  by  Ali  shaking  my 
arm. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked,  still  half  asleep. 

"He  moved!"  she  said  in  a  voice  trembling 
with  emotion.  "He  moved,  just  beneath  my 
heart." 

She  took  hold  of  my  hand  and  pressed  it  to 
her  body  underneath  her  left  breast,  but  I  could 
feel  nothing  except  the  movement  of  her  dia- 
phragm as  she  breathed. 

"There,  he  moved  again !"  she  whispered,  lying 
down  quietly  on  her  back.  "Didn't  you  feel  it*?" 

"Yes!"  I  said  to  please  her;  but  just  as  I  was 
falling  asleep  again  I  heard  gentle  sobbing  in  her 
throat. 

"Why  are  you  crying?"  I  asked. 

"I  am  crying  because  he  moved !"  she  answered, 
her  first  tears  of  motherhood  falling  afresh. 

They  were  tears  of  joy. 


CHAPTER    SIXTEEN 

AS  her  time  approached,  All  went  about 
wrapped  in  her  own  thoughts,  smiling  to 
me  when  I  spoke,  but  not  answering. 

One  night  she  rose  up,  took  one  of  our  sleeping- 
mats,  and  made  a  separate  bed  for  herself.  I 
objected  to  this,  and  demanded  that  she  should 
return,  but  she  merely  looked  at  me  with  a  timid, 
beseeching  glance. 

When  I  put  my  arm  round  her,  she  gently  dis- 
engaged herself  and  rolled  over  on  her  mat. 
"No!  No!"  she  implored. 

I  could  hear  by  the  tone  of  her  voice  the  effort 
it  cost  her  to  repulse  me,  but  I  was  so  accus- 
tomed to  have  her  by  my  side  that  I  became  ir- 
ritated at  what  I  considered  a  mere  whim. 

One  evening  I  spoke  angrily  to  her  on  the 
subject.  She  made  no  reply,  but  soon  after- 
wards I  heard  her  sobbing,  and  even  after  she 
had  fallen  asleep  her  body  shook  with  grief. 

On  the  following  evening,  as  we  stood  up  at 
sunset  to  go  into  the  house  and  sleep,  she  stood 
181 


182     VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

suddenly  quite  still  and  faced  me  with  a  mourn- 
ful, searching  glance.  Then,  placing  her  arms 
on  my  shoulders,  she  said,  with  a  deep  sigh: 
"Why  don't  you  go  to  Ikala*?" 

"Never!"  I  exclaimed,  looking  reproachfully 
at  her. 

"All  the  other  men  do,"  she  said,  smiling  sadly. 

That  night  I  lay  for  a  long  time  sleepless,  think- 
ing over  her  self-sacrincing  love  in  mentioning  the 
joyless  widow's  name.  I  knew  well  enough  that 
it  was  the  accepted  custom  on  the  island  for  men 
to  go  to  other  women  when  their  wives  were  ill. 
But  with  me  and  Ali  it  seemed  different  somehow. 

Some  days  later,  upon  returning  from  fishing, 
I  met  Ikala  wandering  round  our  stockade  as 
if  looking  for  some  one.  Upon  hearing  me  she 
turned  swiftly.  By  the  eager,  intense  look  she 
threw  at  me  as  she  moistened  her  lips  with  her 
thin  red  tongue  I  realized  that  I  was  the  object 
of  her  search. 

I  began  now  to  understand  the  methods  of 
the  joyless  widows.  They  keep  themselves  well 
informed  of  all  that  occurs  in  the  huts,  and  when- 
ever they  are  likely  to  be  useful  they  appear  on 
their  own  initiative.  Thus  one  is  spared  the 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     183 

necessity  of  overcoming  one's  scruples  and  seek- 
ing them  out. 

Without  saying  a  word,  she  walked  slowly 
past  me,  swaying  on  her  heavy  hips,  her  eyes 
fixed  on  mine.  Such  was  the  remarkable  power 
of  her  glance  that  I  followed  her  almost  mechanic- 
ally. 

She  roused  my  curiosity,  so  that  I  went  with 
her  to  her  hut,  which  was  situated  by  itself,  sur- 
rounded by  a  thick  shrubbery  of  yam  bushes. 
The  huge,  fertile  green  leaves  cast  a  welcome 
shade  over  the  clean,  well-kept  little  yard.  She 
motioned  me  to  a  dazzlingly  clean  mat  and,  still 
without  speaking,  took  a  kawa  root  from  a  shelf, 
lay  down  on  her  back  across  my  lap,  and,  opening 
her  mouth,  displayed  two  rows  of  gleaming  brown 
teeth  and  a  clean  red  palate. 

I  twisted  the  kawa  root  from  her  hand  and 
pushed  her  away.  Be  her  mouth  ever  so  clean, 
she  should  never  chew  kawa  for  me. 

She  looked  at  me  with  a  teasing  smile,  her 
mouth  curling  with  scarce-concealed  contempt,  as 
it  had  done  on  the  occasion  of  our  first  meeting. 

Humming  in  her  deep  voice,  she  rose  to  her 
feet  and  took  down  a  cocoa-nut  shell  in  which 
were  a  number  of  sea-slugs,  cooked  and  dried 
in  the  same  manner  as  I  had  once  eaten  them  at 


184  VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

a  dinner  on  Yap  Island.  She  took  one  herself 
and  then  offered  me  the  bowl. 

I  ate  one;  it  was  delicious.  I  ate  another — 
and  yet  another. 

All  the  time  her  large,  blank  eyes  never  left 
me.  Her  humming  developed  gradually  into  a 
purring  noise  deep  down  in  her  throat,  extra- 
ordinarily caressing  and  fascinating. 

Presently  she  once  more  lay  back  on  my  lap, 
and  this  time,  influenced  more  by  curiosity  than 
by  lust,  I  let  her  remain. 

After  leaving  Ikala  I  felt  utterly  ashamed  of 
myself  on  Ali's  account,  and  walked  restlessly 
to  and  fro  in  the  moonlight  for  a  long  time 
before  I  could  force  myself  to  go  home. 

Upon  reaching  our  fence  I  heard  voices,  Ali's 
and  a  stranger's.  I  held  my  breath  and  listened. 

It  was  a  woman's  voice.  The  truth  flashed 
upon  me:  Ali  was  ill  and  about  to  give  birth 
to  her  child. 

I  hurried  forward.  There  on  her  knees  in  the 
doorway,  her  hands  outstretched  clutching  the  low 
framework,  crouched  my  wife.  Behind  her  sat 
a  woman  whose  face  I  could  not  see  owing  to  the 
shadow  cast  by  Ali's  body. 

As  I  appeared,  a  convulsion  seized  her,  but  not 
a  shriek  passed  her  lips.  Then  looking  up  she 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  185 

saw  me  standing  in  the  moonlight;  she  said  noth- 
ing, but  her  glance  was  like  that  of  a  mortally 
wounded  deer.  Her  spirit  was  with  the  young 
strong  life  within  her,  even  now  struggling  to- 
wards the  light. 

The  strange  woman  bent  towards  me,  wav- 
ing me  away  indignantly  with  both  arms.  In- 
stead of  retreating  I  approached  nearer;  I  then 
recognized  her  as  Ali's  mother,  the  woman  who 
once  upon  a  time  removed  Ali  by  the  scruff  of 
the  neck  at  the  King's  House,  and  who,  later  on, 
escorted  her  to  the  Common  House.  My  mother- 
in-law  ! 

How  it  had  come  about  that  she  now  sat  here 
with  Ali,  who  had  not  been  outside  the  house  for 
several  days,  and  had  had  no  messenger  to  send 
other  than  myself,  I  understood  just  as  little  as 
the  fact  of  Ikala's  cunningly  timed  arrival  at 
the  stockade  a  few  hours  previously.  They  are 
both  proofs  of  the  mysterious  and  infallible  in- 
stinct characterizing  the  natives. 

Upon  my  ignoring  her  rebuke  and,  instead, 
approaching  still  closer  to  Ali,  the  old  woman 
flung  herself  forward  between  us,  exclaiming 
angrily :  "Don't  you  know  that  no  man  may  be 
present  at  the  birth  of  a  child?" 

I  hesitated  as  to  what  course  to  pursue;  but 


186  VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

when  All  turned  her  head  and  looked  at  me 
in  a  manner  clearly  indicating  dismissal,  I  turned 
on  my  heel  and  went  outside  the  stockade. 

Frantic  with  anxiety  I  stood  prepared  to 
rush  in  at  the  first  shriek.  But  suddenly  I  real- 
ized my  complete  helplessness,  and  knew  that  I 
would  only  be  in  the  way,  and  that  Ali  could  be 
in  no  better  hands  than  in  those  which  had  held 
her  at  her  own  birth. 

I  held  my  breath,  listening  to  every  sound, 
whilst  I  shamefacedly  fought  back  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  hours  spent  with  Ikala.  After  a  time 
I  could  bear  the  listening  no  longer.  I  began 
walking  restlessly  to  and  fro  between  the  stock- 
ade and  the  taro  field,  never,  however,  going 
beyond  earshot  of  the  house. 

I  would  have  given  all  I  possessed  to  hear  Ali 
call  for  me;  but  there  came  no  sound. 

For  several  hours  I  thus  slunk  about,  until 
my  nerves  quivered  like  wires  and  my  knees 
trembled  beneath  me.  The  white  moonshine 
through  the  lianas  threw  a  huge  network  of 
shadows  across  the  white  path. 

At  last,  like  a  clap  of  thunder  after  hours  of 
stifling  heat,  a  shriek  broke  the  silence. 

One  single,  rending  shriek,  more  like  the  cry 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     187 

of  an  animal  than  of  a  human  being  in  pain. 
Some  bats,  scared  by  the  noise,  fluttered  in  the 
tree-tops ;  a  dog  began  to  howl  among  the  huts. 

Again  came  a  shriek,  this  time  fierce  and  savage, 
making  me  hold  my  breath  in  suspense,  and  then 
another  which  rose  louder  and  louder,  and  then 
stopped  abruptly  as  if  cut  in  two,  dying  away 
in  a  long-drawn-out,  agonized  wail.  .  .  . 

Then  the  bleating  of  a  strong  little  voice  rose 
into  the  air. 

The  tension  relaxed:  so  suddenly  and  so  vio- 
lently that  I  burst  into  tears.  An  indescribable 
feeling  of  success  and  happiness  swept  over  me. 

I  rushed  to  the  stockade  and  shouted  "Ali!" 
but  the  door  was  fastened,  and  there  came  no 
answer.  I  stood  a  long  time  there,  listening. 
Occasionally  I  heard  the  blessed  bleating,  but  now 
it  was  much  subdued,  from  which  I  realized  that 
they  had  carried  Ali  in  on  her  mat,  and  had  shut 
the  door  to  the  house. 

Then  I  resumed  my  roaming  to  and  fro  from 
the  fence  to  the  road.  But  as  soon  as  dawn 
began  to  tinge  the  sea,  and  the  sky  became  one 
huge  pale  opal,  I  ran  down  to  the  strand  and 
stood,  proud  and  happy,  watching  for  the  first 
rays  of  the  sun. 


i88    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

I  don't  remember  now  what  thoughts  and 
resolutions — for  I  probably  made  resolutions — 
filled  my  heart.  But  I  stretched  out  my  arms  to 
the  sun  and  was  happy. 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN 

SEVERAL  times  during  the  early  hours  of 
the  morning  I  came  to  the  gate,  waiting 
in  vain  for  the  old  woman  to  open;  call 
out  I  dared  not,  for  fear  of  waking  Ali.  Finally, 
hearing  the  rattling  of  the  house  door  and  the 
beating  of  a  mat  on  the  step,  I  shouted  loudly 
and  impatiently,  with  the  result  that  I  was  at 
last  allowed  to  enter  my  own  yard. 

My  mother-in-law  showed  all  her  teeth,  stroked 
my  arm,  and  exclaimed:  "A  son  for  your  old 
age  and  your  race!" 

I  looked  round  vainly  for  something  to  give 
her.  "You  shall  have  a  big  tabu!"  I  said  hastily, 
hurrying  past  her  towards  the  door. 

On  entering  I  found  the  room  divided  into 
two  compartments  by  means  of  a  screen  formed 
of  all  the  mats  in  the  house,  which  the  old  woman 
had  carefully  sewn  together. 

I  then  remembered  the  islanders'  confounded 
custom  that  a  man  may  not  see  his  wife  before 
she  is  up  and  about  and  has  bathed  herself. 


190    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

Consigning  their  custom  to  the  lower  regions,  I 
made  towards  the  screen,  intending  to  pull  it 
aside,  but  the  old  woman  seized  my  shoulder  in  a 
clawlike  grasp,  gesticulating  violently  as  she  ex- 
postulated with  me. 

"Do  you  wish  to  kill  her?"  she  hissed  angrily. 
I  answered  her  with  honeyed  words,  lauding  to 
the  skies,  herself,  her  daughter,  and  her  family  for 
the  generations  past  and  to  come",  until  at  last  I 
persuaded  her  to  let  me  see  my  son. 

She  slipped  under  the  screen.  A  rustling  and 
a  low,  bleating  noise  followed,  and  a  moment 
later  she  reappeared  carrying  a  bundle  enveloped 
in  Ali's  new  loin-skirt.  She  removed  the  wrap- 
ping, exposing  to  view  a  plump  little  shivering 
body,  quite  light  brown  in  colour,  and  covered 
all  over  with  fine,  downy  hair. 

"Splendid  shape!"  ejaculated  my  mother-in- 
law,  pointing  proudly  to  the  infant's  head,  which 
she  had  pressed  into  shape  with  her  hands. 

As  I  lifted  the  tiny  form  carefully  in  my 
arms,  two  large  eyes  suddenly  shone  into  mine. 
They  were  Ali's  eyes,  except,  perhaps,  a  shade 
lighter  in  colour.  They  stared  straight  at  me, 
but,  of  course,  could  see  nothing;  I  thought  they 
looked  rather  astonished,  perhaps  a  little  angry. 

Suddenly  he  began  mouthing  at  me  like  a  puppy 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     191 

seeking  its  mother's  udder,  his  fat  little  hands 
fumbling  and  striking  at  the  air.  Failing  to  find 
the  soft  round  thing  he  sought,  his  eyes  closed, 
and  a  loud  wailing  burst  from  his  lips,  which  my 
mother-in-law  instantly  sought  to  stifle  by  wrap- 
ping his  head  in  the  cloth,  after  which  she  again 
disappeared  under  the  mat. 

Then  I  heard  All  move  and  sigh;  I  heard  her 
yawn  and  wake;  I  heard  her  voice  call  feebly. 
Then  I  felt  the  child  being  put  into  her  arms; 
I  heard  the  excited  sucking  and  purring  as  it 
clung  to  its  source  of  life.  My  mother-in-law 
whispered  something;  immediately  afterwards 
Ali's  voice  spoke  to  me  through  the  screen,  tinged 
with  a  pathetic  tenderness  I  had  never  heard 
before:  "Is  he  big  and  good?"  she  asked. 

"He  is  the  biggest,  the  best  .  .  ." 

I  realized  with  a  pang  that  I  lacked  words  to 
tell  her  in  her  own  speech  how  utterly  and 
completely  wonderful  I  found  the  son  she  had 
given  me. 

"Can  you  see  it  is  you?"  she  asked  afresh, 
laughing  happily. 

"Yes,  my  honey-bird,  my  .  .  ." 

Again  words  failed  me.  I  lost  control  of 
myself.  I  tried  to  push  my  way  under  the 
screen.  But  my  mother-in-law  was  there  immedi- 


192     VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

ately,  and  I  heard  All  cry  out  in  a  warning, 
horrified  voice:  "You  must  not!  You  must 
not !"  Then  I  resigned  myself  to  the  inevitable. 

Before  midday  the  event  was  known  all  over 
the  village.  In  the  afternoon  Toko  and  Tongu 
came  to  see  me,  being  received  by  my  mother- 
in-law  at  the  stockade  gate,  according  to  native 
custom,  with  great  ceremony. 

Having  entered  the  house  they  laid  their  gifts, 
consisting  of  various  kinds  of  food,  before  me, 
wishing  the  little  one  a  longjife  and  a  big  tabu. 

Toko  was  extremely  nervous,  but  Tongu,  with 
his  customary  savoir  faire,  asked  anxiously  about 
Ali's  health,  expressing  his  desire  for  her  speedy 
recovery,  and  on  the  whole  fulfilled  the  role  of 
budding  godfather. 

I  chewed  a  betel  quid  for  both  of  them,  and 
one  for  my  mother-in-law,  who  was  tremendously 
inflated  with  her  importance  and  proud  of  her 
daughter.  After  we  had  chewed  and  spat  for 
the  period  demanded  by  etiquette,  Toko  and 
Tongu  solemnly  took  their  departure. 

Soon  afterwards  the  wise  Wahuja  paid  a  visit, 
escorted  by  two  of  the  King's  servants  bearing 
gifts  to  me  from  the  King  and  from  himself — a 
basket  full  of  the  finest  cocoa-nuts  on  the  island, 
sent  specially  for  Ali,  a  finely  ground  mussel 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     193 

ax  for  me  (a  little  work  of  art  that  I  was  really 
delighted  with,  and  which  I  have  still  in  my  pos- 
session) ;  a  finest  quality  mat,  plaited  by  the 
King's  women;  and  a  little  fat  sucking-pig  from 
His  Majesty's  sty. 

The  pig  was  immediately  let  loose  by  my 
mother-in-law  among  the  fowls,  where  it  caused 
such  a  panic  of  cackling  and  crowing  that  I  ran 
out  to  catch  it  and  tie  it  by  the  leg  to  a  tree. 

I  was  in  such  good  humour  with  all  the  world 
that  I  could  not  think  of  letting  Wahuja  depart 
in  vain.  Having  chewed  our  betel  quids,  I 
poured  him  out  a  glass,  almost  the  last  now, 
of  the  priceless  rum.  Wahuja,  sighing  mourn- 
fully on  observing  how  little  there  was  left  in 
the  bottle,  licked  as  usual  the  glass  both  inside 
and  out,  and  proceeded  to  hold  forth  on  the  cor- 
ruptibility of  all  things. 

Following  Wahuja  to  the  door,  I  caught  sight 
of  Winawa  standing,  hesitating  and  doubtful, 
some  little  distance  off.  I  waved  her  away 
angrily,  not  wishing  Ali  to  hear  her  voice,  and  be 
afraid  of  her  evil  intentions. 

Later  in  the  day  more  visits  followed:  "the 
Great  Hunter,"  Kadu  and  Fagoda,  and  several 
of  the  girls,  including  the  inquisitive  Awa,  the 
stately  Muwa,  the  little  plump  Sakalawa,  and  the 


194    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

affectionate  Milawa  with  the  pretty  shoulders. 
The  broad-nosed  Nanuki  with  the  languishing 
glance  sent  her  excuses;  she  was  herself  in  bed, 
expecting  a  child. 

When  I  had  finally  seen  the  back  of  the  last 
guest  and  stood  at  the  stockade  gate  gazing  at 
the  sunset,  Ikala  came  past,  swaying  on  her  heavy 
hips.  When  she  caught  sight  of  me  she  stopped 
and  gazed  at  me  with  her  blank  eyes  and  con- 
temptuous smile. 

Once  more  I  was  filled  with  shame  at  what  I 
had  done ;  and,  turning  my  back  on  her  in  disgust, 
I  swore  a  bitter  oath  never  again  to  satisfy  my 
curiosity  at  such  a  fearful  price. 

Early  the  next  morning  I  heard  Ali's  voice. 
In  a  hushed,  intense  voice  she  kept  repeating  the 
same  word. 

"What  are  you  saying*?"  I  asked  through  the 
screen. 

"Oasu ! — Oasu !"  she  whispered  over  the  child's 
head.  (I  could  not  see  her,  but  I  knew  she  did 
so.) 

"Oasu"  means  "the  sun."  In  such  a  manner 
did  he  receive  his  name. 

"Oasu!— Oasu!" 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     195 

How  sweet  the  word  sounded  as  she  jodelled 
it  in  her  soft,  melodious  voice,  as  full  of  tender- 
ness as  her  heart  was  full  of  love. 

Each  day  as  we  lay  in  the  shadow  of  our  house, 
the  boy  crawling  over  her  bare  brown  body,  cling- 
ing with  both  hands  to  the  breasts  which  gave 
him  life,  she  would  look  down  at  him  with  her 
parted  lips,  quivering  with  tenderness,  murmur- 
ing incessantly,  as  if  in  benediction:  "Oasu! — 
Oasu!" 

Ali  took  Oasu  with  her  wherever  she  went, 
carrying  him  in  a  large  silk  scarf,  the  last  one  of 
my  collection.  I  had  hidden  it  carefully  from 
Tongu's  and  Wahuja's  eyes;  and  now  I  had  given 
it  to  Ali  in  which  to  carry  her  first-born. 

The  scarf  was  fastened  at  the  back  of  her  neck, 
passing  under  her  left  arm,  the  child  slung  in 
front  of  her  in  the  native  fashion  just  below  the 
breasts. 

All  the  native  women  carried  their  children  in 
the  same  manner,  but  not  one  of  them  possessed 
such  a  gorgeous  carrying-cloth,  a  fact  of  which 
Ali  was  immensely  proud. 

The  child  lay  on  its  back,  only  its  head  and 
feet  being  visible,  resting  there  in  warmth  and 
comfort  while  Ali  performed  her  duties  in  the 
house.  She  put  him  down  only  when  she  worked 


196     VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

in  the  fields,  placing  him  in  the  shadow  of  a  bush 
and  wrapping  him  completely  in  the  scarf  so 
that  the  insects  might  not  bite  his  tender  skin. 

Oasu  was  in  splended  condition.  He  was  al- 
ways cheerful,  and  cried  only  when  he  was  hungry 
and  not  immediately  supplied  with  milk. 

Oasu  cut  his  first  tooth,  and  Ali  rejoiced.  Oasu 
learned  to  walk,  and  Ali  was  proud.  Oasu  began 
to  stammer  his  own  name ;  it  was  like  a  bird  sing- 
ing. 

Ali  weaned  him  by  first  chewing  a  piece  of  taro 
or  banana  and  then  letting  him  take  it  from  her 
mouth  with  his  small,  pointed  lips,  a  game  which 
he  thoroughly  enjoyed. 

For  two  whole  years,  the  days  of  which  slid 
past  like  pearls  on  a  string,  we  were  happy — Ali 
and  Oasu  and  I. 

Then  came  the  end! 


CHAPTER    EIGHTEEN 

THE  autumn  monsoon  change  was  ap- 
proaching, and  to  please  the  faithful 
Toko  I  had  agreed  to  go  fishing  with  him. 

Just  before  sunrise  I  heard  him  hammering  at 
the  outer  door.  "There's  a  calm!"  he  shouted. 
"The  sea  is  quite  still  by  the  reef  and  the  canoe 
is  ready!  Hurry  up,  it  is  good  weather  for 
turtles!" 

One  of  Toko's  convictions  was  that  he  could 
feel  instinctively  the  best  time  to  catch  turtles. 
When  he  got  such  an  idea  in  his  head  nothing 
could  dampen  his  ardour. 

Ali  tried  to  prevent  my  going.  She  always 
disapproved  of  fishing,  because  women  were  not 
allowed  to  join  in.  She  flung  her  arms  round 
me,  exclaiming  that  she  had  had  a  bad  dream  in 
the  night.  But,  feeling  sorry  for  Toko,  I  suc- 
ceeded in  calming  her,  promising,  however,  to 
return  early. 

We  paddled  slowly  westwards  towards  the  reef, 
which  at  low  water  formed  a  long,  narrow,  flat 

197 


198    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

island.  Toko  kept  insisting  that  it  was  turtle- 
catching  weather,  and  was  therefore  not  keen  on 
fishing.  Nevertheless,  we  put  out  our  bamboo 
dredger  when  we  were  half-way  across,  drawing 
it  gently  after  us  at  the  end  of  a  long  rotang  line. 

The  weather  was  wonderful,  the  air  more  daz- 
zlingly  clear  and  the  water  more  transparent  than 
I  had  ever  seen  them  before.  We  could  plainly 
distinguish  the  gorgeous  coral  flowers  deep  at  the 
bottom  of  the  lagoon,  covered  with  hundreds  of 
weird  parasitic  molluscs  swaying  to  and  fro  with 
the  motion  of  the  water. 

Toko  sat  at  the  bow,  staring  straight  ahead, 
and  after  paddling  for  more  than  an  hour  without 
catching  the  slightest  glimpse  of  anything  re- 
sembling the  head  or  back  of  a  turtle,  he  decided 
to  lie  in  under  the  reef  and  wait. 

We  remained  there  for  what  seemed  an  inter- 
minable time,  peering  round  in  all  directions  with- 
out daring  to  move.  At  last  I  lost  patience,  and 
suggested  that  we  should  abandon  turtle-fishing 
and  take  to  trawling.  Toko,  however,  who  is 
obstinacy  incarnate  when  he  has  an  idea  in  his 
thick  head,  insisted  on  remaining  where  we  were 
until  the  tide  turned. 

We  lay  there  dozing  yet  another  half-hour; 
that  is  to  say,  I  dozed,  as  far  as  it  was  possible 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     199 

on  an  uncomfortable  seat  with  my  knees  against 
my  chin;  Toko  glared  in  relentless  silence,  his 
brow  growing  gloomier  and  gloomier  with  annoy- 
ance. It  was  a  point  of  honour  with  him  to  find 
a  turtle. 

At  last  the  tide  reached  its  lowest  ebb.  Toko 
stepped  out  of  the  canoe,  the  water  barely 
reaching  to  his  knees,  and  crept  cautiously  towards 
the  low  coral  reef. 

Having  reached  it,  he  stood  for  a  moment 
peering  round  in  all  directions;  then,  going  for- 
ward to  the  top  of  the  reef,  he  looked  out  on  the 
other  side  over  the  smooth,  shining  sea. 

Suddenly  he  turned  round  and  pointed  with 
his  hand  towards  the  eastern  horizon.  I  looked 
and  saw  a  dark,  peculiarly  sharp-edged  cloud  close 
to  the  surface  of  the  water.  It  appeared  to  be 
moving  towards  us,  and  resembled  some  gigantic 
sea-bird  on  the  wing. 

I  stood  up  in  the  boat  to  get  a  better  view, 
and  understood  at  once  that  a  storm  was  ap- 
proaching. I  kept  a  sharp  eye  on  the  cloud, 
while  Toko,  realizing  that  there  was  no  time  to 
spare,  redoubled  his  efforts  to  find  a  turtle. 

The  cloud  rose  slowly  above  the  horizon,  in- 
creasing rapidly  in  size:  it  was,  without  doubt, 
coming  straight  for  this  island.  Soon  the  first 


200     VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

faint  puff  of  wind  came  sweeping  over  the 
surface  of  the  water,  blurring  its  smooth,  glassy 
surface. 

I  knew  from  experience  how  quickly  such 
storms  can  approach,  and  shouted  to  Toko  to 
abandon  his  turtles  and  come  back  to  the  boat. 
He  stamped  his  feet  angrily  in  the  water,  mut- 
tering some  sulky  reply,  but  when  he  saw  me  haul- 
ing in  the  net  he  turned  and  came  slowly  towards 
me. 

By  the  time  he  had  reached  the  boat,  he  too 
felt  nervous  about  the  cloud.  He  stared  at  the 
black  monster  and  then  anxiously  at  me;  but  I 
made  no  remark. 

We  pulled  the  net  into  the  boat.  When  I 
made  no  attempt  to  examine  its  contents,  but  in- 
stead hurriedly  tied  the  mouth  fast,  Toko  was 
alarmed. 

"Storm?'  he  asked. 

I  was  careful  not  to  tell  him  what  it  was  I 
feared;  he  would  have  been  terror-stricken;  and 
we  would  soon  need  our  presence  of  mind. 

We  took  up  the  paddles  and  made  for  home 
with  all  our  might. 

The  wind,  still  blowing  from  the  east,  in- 
creased steadily.  The  cloud,  which  by  this  time 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  201 

had  assumed  formidable  proportions,  hung  black 
and  threatening  over  the  sea,  its  tail  swinging  to- 
wards the  south. 

As  it  came  nearer,  I  could  see  numerous  cloud- 
flakes  underneath  it  which  continually  broke  away 
and  whirled  towards  us  at  express  speed. 

I  was  no  longer  in  doubt :  it  was  the  typhoon. 
Once  Tongu  and  I  had  experienced  one  on  Yap 
Island,  on  which  occasion  it  killed  threescore 
people  and  swept  away  their  huts. 

Although  scarcely  a  quarter  of  an  hour  had 
passed  since  the  first  faint  puff  of  wind,  it  now 
blew  so  strongly  that  the  birds  out  by  the  reef 
were  compelled  to  fly  in  enormous  zigzags  to  make 
headway  against  it. 

Toko  kept  looking  up  into  my  face,  but  T 
maintained  an  unbroken  silence. 

The  water  began  to  rise,  almost  submerging 
the  reef,  leaving  only  a  thin  line  visible  of  the 
island  where  Toko  only  a  few  minutes  before  had 
stood. 

White  horses  appeared  far  out  to  sea;  even  in 
the  lagoon  the  waves  became  restless  and  foam- 
capped,  swirling  and  beating  with  a  roar  upon  the 
reef. 

Although  we  exerted  every  ounce  of  strength, 


202    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

we  made  but  little  progress,  paddling  dead  against 
wind  and  tide. 

A  sudden  gust  of  wind  struck  us  like  a  blow. 
The  cloud  began  to  blot  out  the  daylight;  it  was 
almost  certain  that  the  hurricane  would  be  right 
over  our  heads  in  less  than  ten  minutes. 

I  thought  of  the  previous  monsoon  changes 
during  my  stay  upon  the  island — Tongu's  state- 
ment that  there  had  been  no  real  hurricane  there 
for  the  :last  fifteen  years  now  seemed  to  me  almost 
incredible.  Realizing  that  it  was  impossible  for 
us  to  make  headway  against  both  wind  and  tide  in 
a  north-easterly  direction,  I  determined,  while  it 
was  yet  possible,  to  make  a  bee-line  for  the  coast, 
and  get  home  as  best  we  could  along  the  shore. 

Saying  nothing  to  Toko  of  my  fears,  I  altered 
our  course ;  the  waves  dashed  over  the  side  of  the 
boat,  but  we  made  more  rapid  progress. 

At  last  Toko  could  contain  himself  no  longer. 
"Is  it  the  typhoon*?"  he  whispered,  his  eyes  bulg- 
ing with  terror. 

"No,"  I  said,  "but  it  is  a  storm!" 

Further  explanation  was  unnecessary,  for  the 
sea  was  already  smashing  in  over  the  reef.  The 
wind  came  in  great  gusts  towards  us  from  the  east ; 
but  for  our  floating-keel  we  would  inevitably  have 
capsized  long  ago. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     203 

When  we  were  about  half-way  to  land,  the 
wind  swung  round  to  the  north,  the  change 
coming  so  suddenly  that  we  nearjly  upset.  For- 
tunately Toko  had  not  experienced  a  hurricane 
since  his  childhood,  otherwise  he  would  certainly 
have  recognized  the  black  monster  with  its  loose, 
low-hanging  cloud-flakes;  worse  still,  he  would 
have  known  that  the  abrupt  change  of  wind  was 
an  unmistakable  proof  that  we  were  already  in 
the  grip  of  the  typhoon. 

We  were  in  for  it  with  a  vengeance ;  death  was 
at  our  very  heels.  The  waters  rose  steadily,  and 
the  storm  whipped  them  into  frenzy.  Soon  they 
would  wash  right  over  the  reef  and  hurl  them- 
selves upon  the  coast.  Finally  they  would  sweep 
over  the  low-lying  island,  tearing  up  trees  by 
their  roots,  overturning  huts,  swal,lowing  in  their 
relentless  jaws  every  living  thing  obstructing  their 
passage. 

I  thought  of  Ali  and  Oasu:  my  heart  stood 
still.  It  was  impossible  for  me  to  reach  home  in 
time. 

Who  was  there  to  save  her?  Which  of  the 
villagers  would  remember  her  helplessness?  I 
put  all  my  hopes  on  Tongu,  comforting  myself 
with  the  memory  of  his  long  faithful  friendship. 
Tongu  knew  that  we  were  out  fishing,  and  that 


204    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

All  was  alone  with  her  child  and  her  terror. 
Tongu  was  experienced;  he  knew  the  danger  and 
would  ge  to  her  in  time. 

Thus  did  I  try  to  shake  off  the  dread  that  filled 
me.  Suddenly  Toko  began  to  tremble,  showing 
the  whites  of  his  eyes  in  panic.  "The  spirits  are 
after  us!"  he  screamed,  looking  helplessly  at  me. 

There  was  no  time  to  reason  with  him.  We 
must  reach  land  and  find  a  place  sufficiently 
elevated  to  escape  the  coming  flood. 

I  had  it.     The  Fathers'  Stone ! 

The  ruin  was  of  such  antiquity  that  it  must 
have  withstood  many  such  hurricanes ;  also  it  was 
on  high  ground. 

"Can  you  find  the  stream  in  the  mangrove 
wood,"  I  asked — "the  one  leading  to  the  Fathers' 
Stone?" 

Toko  understood  immediately.  He  sprang  to 
his  feet  and  looked  round.  Then  he  began  pad- 
dling with  all  his  strength  in  a  westerly  direction. 
With  the  rising  storm  and  death  behind  us,  we 
fought  for  our  lives;  we  passed  the  jungle,  which 
was  swaying  and  howling  like  a  fiend;  we  entered 
the  bay,  where  it  was  a  little  less  rough;  we  saw 
the  wall  of  aerial  roots,  and  heard  the  old  tree- 
tops  groaning  and  sighing  in  the  storm. 

Then  Toko's  sharp  eyes  found  the  mouth  of 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS     205 

the  stream  and  we  dashed  in,  the  foam  swirling 
under  our  keel. 

It  was  almost  dark.  The  cloud  hung  nearly 
perpendicularly  over  our  heads. 

The  waters  swirled  behind  us,  the  mangroves 
rattled  and  creaked,  the  lianas  writhed,  the  aerial 
roots  vibrated  like  strings  played  upon  by  the 
storm;  but  the  narrow  stream  was  comparatively 
undisturbed,  a  fact  which  calmed  Toko  considera- 
ably.  I,  knowing  the  horror  that  was  to  come, 
still  paddled  with  all  my  might. 

The  next  moment  the  cloud  was  directly  above 
us.  Everything  grew  black;  the  air  suddenly  be- 
came still  and  stifling;  my  head  throbbed  pain- 
fully, and  I  could  scarcely  breathe. 

Then  it  began.  The  first  flash  of  lightning 
glittered  through  the  darkness;  crash  after  crash 
of  thunder  flung  itself  upon  us. 

The  storm  swept  over  us  in  great  gusts,  nothing 
but  the  thick  wall  of  trees  saving  us  from  destruc- 
tion. 

Toko  crouched  down  like  a  frightened  animal, 
the  paddle  almost  falling  from  his  hands.  Fear- 
ing he  would  break  down  completely,  I  swore  at 
him,  calling  him  by  every  disgraceful  name  I  could 
think  of.  At  last,  stung  to  action  by  the  epithet 
"woman,"  he  sat  up  and  began  to  row  again. 


206    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

Rain  streamed  down  in  sheets,  striking  the 
swollen  waters  at  an  acute  angle. 

"Rain,"  did  I  say*?  It  was  not  rain,  but  a 
cloud-burst.  In  spite  of  it,  neither  wind  nor 
lightning  ceased,  while  the  heat  and  the  air- 
pressure  became  more  and  more  unbearable.  The 
streaming  water  formed  a  solid  grey  wall  before 
our  eyes,  making  it  impossible  to  see  two  yards 
ahead.  The  boat  was  soon  more  than  half  full, 
-and,  to  complete  our  misfortunes,  Toko  suddenly 
declared  himself  unable  to  find  the  landing-place. 

I  spoke  to  him,  painting  in  lurid  terms  what 
was  at  stake.  Were  we  to  die  here  in  the  man- 
grove swamp,  to  lie  and  rot  among  the  evil,  de- 
parted spirits  whose  home  it  was? 

My  words  had  an  immediate  effect:  his  howls 
ceased  as  if  by  magic.  After  helping  me  to  bail 
out  the  water  he  resumed  his  place  at  the  bow. 
Once  more  the  canoe  crept  slowly  forward. 

At  last  he  found  the  tree  he  sought.  I  also 
recognized  the  giant  fallen  trunk.  Its  surface 
was  smooth  and  shiny  with  the  streaming  rain 
which  poured  off  it  in  torrents  to  either  side  into 
the  thick,  black  mud. 

Abandoning  the  boat  to  its  fate,  we  grasped 
the  trunk,  and  with  tremendous  exertions  suc- 
ceeded in  struggling  up  on  its  smooth  surface. 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS    207 

Toko  went  in  front;  I  slipped  several  times,  and 
would  most  certainly  have  been  swallowed  up  in 
the  swamp  but  for  his  assistance. 

At  one  place  the  rotten  wood  collapsed  beneath 
our  feet,  leaving  us  both  hanging,  shaken  and 
terrified,  by  our  arms.  Fighting  for  our  lives, 
we  pulled  ourselves  up  and  resumed  our  perilous 
journey.  Above  our  heads  the  murderous  black 
cloud  belched  forth  quivering  daggers  of  molten 
fire,  while  the  thunder  deafened  our  ears  and  the 
rain  lashed  our  backs  like  blows  from  a  giant  whip. 

I  shall  never  forget  that  terrible  babel.  Al- 
ways when  I  think  of  that  day,  its  multifarious 
noises  resound  again  in  my  ears:  the  howls  and 
wails  of  the  mangroves;  the  shrieking  and  whist- 
ling of  the  lianas;  the  quivering  clatter  of  the 
aerial  roots;  the  ceaseless  plash  of  the  pouring  rain 
upon  the  mud.  And  rising  high  above  it  all  like 
the  cries  of  a  lost  soul,  the  fiendish  shrieking  of  the 
storm. 

At  last  Toko  reached  the  end  and  jumped  down. 
But  so  saturated  was  the  ground  that  he  sank  in 
it  to  his  knees.  We  had  to  squelch  our  way 
laboriously  forward  until  we  had  scarcely 
strength  to  drag  one  foot  before  the  other. 

But  all  the  time  the  ground  slanted  upwards. 
The  bottom  was  firmer  for  every  yard  we  covered, 


208  VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

until  at  last  it  was  so  high  that  the  water  simply 
streamed  over  it  without  having  time  to  soak  in. 

Presently  we  saw  the  vampire  bats'  bread- 
fruit trees  swaying  ahead  of  us,  and  knew  that  we 
were  near  our  destination.  Once  we  saw  a  huge 
old  tree  felled  by  the  storm :  first  a  shriek  of  com- 
plaint as  the  branches  swished  through  the  air; 
then  a  long,  despairing  sigh  as  the  trunk  fell, 
crushing  and  smashing  everything  in  its  resist- 
less course. 

Toko  seized  my  arm  convulsively;  he  believed 
the  frightful  shriek  of  evil  spirits  sounded  in  his 
ears.  I  am  convinced  that  his  eyes  had  seen  them 
actually  fell  the  tree;  to  him  the  sighing  of  the 
trunk  had  been  the  death-rattle  of  a  good  spirit. 

I  gave  him  no  time  for  thought.  I  kept  bully- 
ing him,  although  to  make  myself  heard  I  had 
to  bawl  at  the  top  of  my  voice  in  his  ear — 
threatening  him  with  the  vengeance  of  my  spirits 
when  he  tried  to  throw  himself  down  in  panic 
before  his  own.  By  sheer  force  of  personality  I 
compelled  him  to  lead  the  way  to  the  Fathers' 
Stone. 

At  last  we  reached  it :  the  giant  blocks  of  basalt 
gleamed  through  the  semi-darkness. 

Now  that  the  ground  was  higher  we  felt  again 
the  full  force  of  the  storm.  In  spite  of  being  in 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  209 

the  lee  of  the  mangrove  trees,  we  were  forced  to 
fling  ourselves  down  and  crawl  the  last  few  yards 
on  all  fours  over  the  slippery  wet  ground,  until, 
reaching  the  ruin,  we  scrambled  over  and  fell  ex- 
hausted on  the  other  side. 

Presently  the  hurricane  began  to  die  down.  It 
seemed,  so  to  speak,  to  fall  to  pieces,  degenerating 
into  spasmodic  gusts  which  gradually  diminished 
in  force  and  frequency. 

Suddenly  it  became  quite  calm.  The  curtain 
of  clouds  divided,  revealing  a  small  patch  of 
clear  blue  sky.  Toko,  who  had  been  lying  in 
shivering  fear  face  downwards  on  the  ground, 
rose  to  his  feet,  and  looked  at  me  with  tears  of  joy 
in  his  eyes. 

But  I,  knowing  the  truth,  could  not  rejoice. 
I  knew  that  the  front  half  of  the  hurricane  had 
passed  us,  and  that  the  present  calm  was  caused 
by  the  passage  of  the  typhoon's  centre,  usually 
about  four  miles  or  more  in  diameter.  Following 
this  would  come  the  rear  half  of  the  hurricane, 
but  this  time  would  blow  from  the  diametrically 
opposite  quarter.  And  then — then  would  come 
the  horror,  the  horror  which  spreads  death  and  de- 
struction in  its  wake. 

Not,  however,  for  us,  in  our  elevated  nook 
where  no  flood  could  reach;  but  for  all  the  huts 


210  VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

situated  in  the  lowlands  and  for  the  people  who 
remained  there  at  the  time  of  the  flood. 

The  immense  force  of  the  hurricane  drives  the 
waters  of  the  sea  resistlessly  together  from  every 
point  of  the  compass,  causing  them  to  rise  some- 
times as  much  as  forty  feet  above  high-water  level. 
The  sea  sweeps  in  over  the  low-lying  island  and 
lifts  all  things  in  its  arms,  smashing  them  against 
rocks  and  trees;  sucking  them  back  out  into  the 
fathomless  deep  where  death  dwells. 

"Ali!     All!" 

Rigid  with  horror  I  stared  in  the  direction 
where  I  felt  my  house  to  be.  My  thoughts 
whirled  round  in  a  frenzied  chain  seeking  relief — 
but  no  relief  came. 

In  my  desperate  need  I  clung  to  Tongu,  seek- 
ing by  force  of  will  to  influence  him  from  afar, 
at  the  same  time  trying  to  recall  all  that  I  knew 
about  telepathy  and  thought-projection. 

I  put  my  soul  close  to  Ali's  soul  and  sought 
to  comfort  her.  I  seemed  to  hear  her  shrieks. 
I  saw  her  with  Oasu  in  her  arms  running  to  and 
fro  along  the  strand,  calling  to  me  across  the 
frenzied  waters. 

"Help  her,  Tongu !  Take  her  up  to  the  King's 
cocoa-nut  grove,  above  the  reach  of  the  flood! 
Help  her  and  the  child,  Tongu !  Remember  that 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS      211 

I  saved  your  life  once  on  Yap  Island !  Take  the 
whole  of  my  sea-chest!  Tongu,  help  her,  help 
her!  I  will  work  for  you  for  years,  if  you  will 
only  save  her  for  me !" 

How  long  we  crouched  there,  terrified  and 
silent,  I  know  not.  It  seemed  like  a  whole  night, 
but  it  can  scarcely  have  been  more  than  an  hour 
and  a  half :  for  the  centre  of  the  typhoon  moves 
quickly,  and  is  seldom  more  than  twelve  miles 
across. 

Presently  the  silence  was  broken  by  a  distant 
booming  noise  which  rapidly  grew  louder  and 
louder.  I  clambered  on  to  the  wall  to  look,  but 
could  see  nothing  unusual;  it  sounded  as  if  the 
breakers  on  the  reef  had  come  quite  close  to 
us.  A  sudden  gust  of  wind  nearly  upset  me.  It 
came  from  the  south,  and  I  knew  that  the  calm 
period  was  over,  and  that  the  rear  half  of  the 
hurricane  was  upon  us. 

I  jumped  down  again,  and  Toko  and  I  hurried 
round  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  ruin  to  secure 
shelter.  Before  we  got  there,  the  sky  was  again 
black  and  threatening;  clouds  drove  at  express 
speed  over  our  heads.  The  gusts  of  wind  swelled 
into  a  storm;  the  heat  increased,  and  the  rain 
recommenced  with  its  former  violence. 

The  storm  blotted  out  the  booming  noise  I  had 


212  VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

heard  from  the  wall.  But  a  fearful  sound  now 
rose  above  the  roar  of  the  tempest,  chilling  the 
blood  in  my  veins. 

The  sea  had  risen !     It  was  the  flood ! 

Like  an  army  of  elephants  it  rushed  through 
the  mangrove  woods,  seething  and  roaring  in 
frenzy;  past  the  millions  of  aerial  roots,  breaking 
them  like  twigs;  overturning  old  worm-eaten 
trunks;  lifting  fallen  trees  from  their  beds  of  mud 
and  driving  them  onward,  smashing  and  crushing 
their  still  living  brothers,  annihilating  the  creepers 
and  tearing  the  lianas  in  twain. 

All  this  I  saw  nothing  of;  I  only  heard  it, 
imagining  it  from  the  sounds,  feeling  it  as  though 
possessed  of  a  sixth  sense. 

That  was  the  most  frightful  part  of  it:  we 
heard  all  and  saw  nothing.  The  wall  of  dark- 
ness formed  an  inpenetrable  veil  into  which  we 
strained  our  eyes  in  vain. 

Close  to  our  ears,  under  our  very  feet,  Death 
swept  forward  over  our  beloved  island.  We  sat 
on  our  lonely  hilltop  and  saw  nothing;  but  we 
heard  the  rending  and  crashing  of  the  trees,  and  we 
felt  the  stones  against  which  we  leaned  rock  as  if 
shaken  by  an  earthquake. 

At  last  my  senses  began  to  leave  me:  I  heard 
no  more.  I  remember  only  that  I  kept  saying 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS  213 

over  and  over  to  myself  the  same  hopeless,  heart- 
breaking words :  "Now  the  flood  is  upon  the  huts 
and  is  taking  Ali  and  Oasu !" 

I  remember  nothing  more :  I  remember  nothing 
of  Toko:  I  became  unconscious. 


When  I  came  to  myself,  my  teeth  were  chatter- 
ing and  my  body  shivering  with  cold,  wet,  and 
terror.  Toko  lay  face  downwards  on  the  ground, 
sound  asleep,  snoring. 

The  storm  had  died  away ;  the  rain  had  ceased, 
the  black  death-cloud  had  disappeared.  Except 
for  a  few  scattered  clouds  fringing  the  setting  sun 
the  sky  was  quite  clear. 

We  crept  down  to  the  mangroves,  but  it  was 
impossible  to  go  farther;  the  ground  was  one  im- 
mense swamp.  By  the  time  we  reached  the  ruin 
again  the  sun  had  sunk  and  it  was  quite  dark: 
we  must  pass  the  night  at  the  Fathers'  Stone. 

At  the  first  sign  of  dawn  we  set  out  on  our 
homeward  journey,  following  a  long  detour  which 
Toko  alone  knew,  and  which  led  past  the  strange 
town,  Wattiwua,  which  we  had  once  visited. 

A  more  terrible  night  I  have  never  passed;  a 
more  terrible  journey  I  have  never  made.  We 
were  dropping  with  exhaustion.  Often  I  had  to 
rest  because  my  knees  would  not  support  me. 


214    VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS 

But  worst  of  all  was  the  dull  certainty  in  my 
heart,  the  despairing  conviction  that  Ali  and  the 
child  were  no  more. 

I  cannot  explain  how  it  was  that  hope  had 
deserted  me,  for  hope  usually  lingers  until  killed 
by  certainty.  But  I  knew  that  Ali  was  dead. 

Towards  midday  we  reached  the  King's  cocoa- 
nut  grove  from  the  north  side,  and  found  all  the 
people  whose  huts  had  been  destroyed  assembled 
there.  Tongu  came  slowly  towards  me,  crying, 
and  fell  down  at  my  feet.  He  knew  that  I  had 
trusted  in  him. 

No  words  were  necessary.  I  sat  down  and 
wept  with  the  others.  When  Toko  saw  my  tears 
he  flung  himself  flat  on  the  ground  and  howled 
like  a  sick  hound. 

Tongu  told  me  afterwards  how,  when  the  storm 
began,  he  went  to  Ali,  who  was  running  with  the 
child  in  her  arms  to  and  fro  along  the  strand, 
calling  my  name.  But  she  would  not  listen  to 
him. 

Only  when  she  could  no  longer  stand  against 
the  storm,  and  the  child  was  shrieking  with  terror, 
did  she  allow  him  to  lead  her  to  the  house,  where 
she  lay  down  at  once  on  our  mat,  still  clasping  the 
child. 

Tongu  tried  to  persuade  her  to  accompany  him 


VAN  ZANTEN'S  HAPPY  DAYS    215 

to  the  cocoa-nut  grove,  but  she  replied  that  she 
would  wait  till  I  came:  I  should  not  find  the 
house  empty  upon  my  return. 

In  vain  did  he  tell  her  of  the  flood  which  would 
surely  come:  she  would  not  listen. 

Later  on,  having  abandoned  his  own  hut,  which 
was  on  a  lower  level  than  ours,  he  came  again  to 
Ali  and  found  her  lying  on  the  mat  wailing. 
After  a  final  vain  attempt  to  persuade  her  to 
leave,  he  seized  her  round  the  waist  to  take  her 
away  by  force.  But  at  that  she  sprang  up  and 
attacked  him,  striking  and  biting  like  one  pos- 
sessed, as  if  afraid  of  his  taking  her  child  from  her. 

Her  last  words  were  that  "the  good  one"  should 
not  find  the  house  deserted  and  empty  when  he 
returned. 

Tongu  accompanied  me  to  the  place  where  the 
house  had  stood.  Only  the  wooden  foundations 
and  the  heavy  sea-chest  were  left. 

There,  jammed  between  the  chest  and  a  beam, 
so  firmly  that  not  even  the  flood  could  move  her, 
lay  Ali,  her  child  clasped  tightly  to  her  cold  breast. 
His  little  head  was  pressed  against  her  neck  so 
that  her  chin  rested  upon  his  hair:  we  found  it 
impossible  to  separate  them. 

Their  faces  were  calm  and  peaceful.  Their 
eyes  were  closed.  They  seemed  to  be  asleep. 


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